


On Salvation

by Hthar



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Complete, F/F, F/M, Game Spoilers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hthar/pseuds/Hthar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-game (LR) AU: Landing on a new and untamed world is far from convenient for Lightning and company. Even in a seemingly godless existence, humanity's flaws persist, some wrongs can never be righted and memories bind them to the past. Hope fears the ties are unbreakable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elyse Estheim (FFnet)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Elyse+Estheim+%28FFnet%29).



Chapter 1: Survival

The world was cold and still, save the solitary sound of boots crunching over the snow-crust. Life had barely begun to stir at that hour, but it was the perfect time to consider the value of a day.

Even two years later, Lightning was still adjusting to the passage of time.

The force of it was undeniable and all around her. She thought back through the handful of seasons they had weathered, the first rounds on a brand new, untamed planet. She reflected on the births, on the signs in wrinkles and inches. This second year was coming to a close and humanity had begun to cluster together, yet they were still a far cry from civilization as anyone knew it before. Nature was strange but predictable, magic was nowhere to be found, and technology remained a distant dream.

She could have been happy with that – happy with the simple mission of survival.

She could have, if only she hadn't overdone it that first time. The gigantic, hairy creature – Hope later referred to it as a 'bear' – had blundered out of nowhere and Lightning could have easily outrun it. It wouldn't have delivered a shoulder-dislocating blow if she had simply not raised her sword.

Over a year later, she continued reaping the consequences of that single point of failure.

_What was I thinking?_

Lightning knew the question was pointless the instant it popped into her head, but there it was, daring her to answer. She kicked hatefully at the powder underfoot and sighed. The fact that the sun wasn't quite up only made her more keenly aware of the time that was ripe for the picking; there were a multitude of other things that needed to get done.

_Like shoveling this pathetic excuse for a walkway._ She gave Snow a telepathic glare.

But she knew precisely why she was here, rather than fighting back the wilderness, for the fifth day in a row. She hadn't gotten her sister back from the other side of _death_ only to refuse a simple request for babysitting. Even if it was for the long-term.

"Never can turn you down, Serah," Lightning muttered to herself, her breath steaming in the air. She raised her hand to knock on the rough wooden door.

She could hear light footsteps scuttling around inside, and seconds later she was greeted with Serah's beaming smile and outstretched arms.

At the end of those arms hung a babbling bundle of chunky limbs and blonde curls, also known as her niece.

"She's all yours!" Serah announced cheerily, depositing the ten-month-old in her arms before she skipped out the door, her scarf flying behind her. "Can't be late for my students! You know Claire's routine. Take it easy, Sis!"

"Yeah. Sure." Mindful of the cold, Lightning stepped inside and sealed out the weather. Claire was getting squirmy, so she shifted the baby's weight entirely to her left side and strode over to the playpen.

As soon as her niece was happily gnawing on the arm of her homemade doll, Lightning shed her winter layers and gave her sword-arm a couple of slow test rotations.

The pain was still there, dull but persistent. She glared at the offending joint, letting her arm hang loose as she maneuvered around the table to warm up in front of the stone fireplace. It took her all of ten seconds to scan every nook and cranny of the living space – her only area of responsibility for the next several months.

_Sure have fallen a long way._ In times like these, she couldn't help but mourn the loss of godlike powers.

Lightning felt her fists tightening at her sides in an automatic response to another surge of aggravation. She took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of the hearth, absently watching the little girl who bore her old name hold an enthusiastic gibberish conversation with her doll.

Her mind skulked off again to revisit the initial question of the day. And honestly, her situation had nothing to do with what she'd been thinking at all. There was a more subtle reasoning behind her childcare sentence. When Serah recruited her for the task, she had basically seen it coming.

Because Serah was not the instigator.

It all came down to the fact that her partner – she never had found a more suitable term since the _first_ time Hope grew up – was rather set in his ways, to include a meddling protective instinct. An odd trait for a teenager, but 'odd' could describe him in general.

After Lightning had suffered a second shoulder dislocation on routine duty, he'd given her the speech: something to the effect of "botched recovery leads to insert-technical-names-for-symptoms-here equals no more fighting." That was his idea of a first warning. She had casually shrugged it off under the excuse of never-ending obligations, returning to the field after a scant three-day rest period, but the battle on the home-front was far from over.

About two weeks later, the problem shoulder began a new round of complaints after a fairly strenuous day with the settlement's border patrol. Lightning had returned that evening to the sight of their hodge-podge family gathered around the central cooking pit for dinner, so she took several cleansing breaths and made every effort to behave as expected – warm up by the fire, smile a little, say a few words here and there. The stew being handed around had smelled particularly appetizing, and she locked her focus onto that.

In hindsight, Lightning acknowledged that she hadn't stood a chance against the plot already in motion. She'd thought nothing of it when Hope held out a bowl for her to take, and she automatically reached up for it with her dominant hand. Sudden pain had zipped down her arm.

She winced – and all bets were off. Hope hadn't even uttered a word. The disconcerting mix of sadness and aggravation and outright _knowing_ that had suffused his features was enough. He'd placed the bowl into her left hand with deliberate care and stalked off.

That had served as a second warning, and it heralded intervention. Her resourceful shadow-boy knew one inexorable way to make her comply, and that was to pull the Serah card.

The next day, her sister had sweetly guilted her into babysitting.

It was no coincidence.

_He can be such a scheming little bastard—_

A series of high-pitched whines from the playpen dragged Lightning back to her present predicament. Claire repeatedly slammed her doll into the floor, her cries suddenly making a crescendo when she seemed to notice her aunt was on alert.

"Oh, calm down," Lightning sighed, scooping the baby up. Claire abruptly quieted, and they stared at each other in thoughtful silence.

"I wonder if this counts as talking to myself."

Claire squealed, and Lightning rolled her eyes.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

For whatever insane reason, Lightning found that it was easier to work through the mundane tasks of caring for an infant if she kept the one-sided conversation going.

It wasn't as if baby Claire could understand or talk back. Strings of babble, shrieks, and whines uttered in context passed as what she _could_ accomplish. This communication method was simple but surprisingly effective.

It turned out that the current topic was a dirty diaper complaint.

"Well, now I know what boredom does to people," Lightning continued to ramble, tossing the used cloth into a laundry bin. She went through the motions of cleaning, fastened a new diaper in place and hefted her niece up again. "Fight your way through the end of the world a couple of times, only to crack over a damn recuperation period."

The baby flailed and smacked her in the face as they transited to the primitive ice-box in search of a bottle.

"Sorry, I'm just frustrated. Your mommy tries to understand, she just can't. No one can."

_Not even me, anymore. What right do I have to be unhappy, after everything we've survived?_

"But I can't lie to myself and _say_ I'm happy," she mumbled aloud. "Maybe I was better off without any emotions. They're just confusing and annoying."

_And I wish to god I didn't have_ those _feelings._

Claire regarded her with a strangely meaningful tilt of the head, before her chubby fist shot out and yanked Lightning's hair with the force of a mini-Villiers.

Hissing as the neck strain connected with her problem shoulder, Lightning pried open the iron grip of tiny fingers and placed her niece on the floor.

"Way to remind me what landed my ass here," she muttered, rubbing her neck. "Don't tell me you're on _his_ side."

The baby blew spit bubbles in response. Lightning procured the bottle and absently started shaking it, until a clamping calf-tackle pulled her focus downward again. She sighed and raked a hand through her not-yet-washed, and now tangled, hair.

"Listen, you're not the problem," she explained, unable to be anything close to stern in the face of Serah's genetically-bestowed, gigantic blue eyes staring up and into her very soul. "Don't give me that look. I know my own limits. Maybe I brought this on myself, but that was my choice."

Her mind immediately echoed back, _You're bringing this on yourself, you know. I'm not afraid to draw a line._

For the second time that morning, she booted Hope out of her head. Unlike their remote electronic connection before the previous world's annihilation, it wasn't as simple as strolling into interference.

Either way, that did nothing to prevent him – in the flesh – from busting in through the front door in that same span of seconds, a flurry of snow in his wake before he threw himself against the door to close it. He heaved an exasperated breath and shook off a cloud of flakes before he finally looked up, blinking in surprise.

"Oh. Good morning." Hope cleared his throat and relieved the door of his negligible weight. Whatever had driven his previous frustration, he buried it instantaneously. "I was… looking for Snow. You're over here awfully early."

Lightning lifted the baby from the floor and regarded Hope with a raised eyebrow. He might have closed most of the distance on her height, but the pale and snow-blasted beanpole of a boy was much less intimidating in reality than he was in her head, where she could only hear his voice.

"Serah had class," she deadpanned. "Your concept of early is off."

"Who cares? I've got a love-hate relationship with the concept of _time_ ," Hope grumbled. He glared balefully toward the fireplace. "There's never enough of it, but it still feels too slow. It's a shame I need it so much."

Shaking her head, Lightning hauled baby and bottle to a seat at the table. She sometimes found it difficult to reconcile the words coming out of the sixteen-year-old. It helped to make less eye contact when he talked, so she concentrated on the little pompom atop his hat. That, at least, fit.

"Hope, whether or not you approve of or _believe_ in my definition of earliness, it's definitely too early to wax philosophical."

He joined her at the table, leaning his chin onto his propped hand as he checked his watch-less wrist for an imaginary readout. "So when's my window?" he asked wryly. "Will sunrise be late enough for deep thoughts?"

Lightning snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Fine. Don't be a smartass, then."

"Hm…" For a moment, Hope cast his eyes upward in thought while he adjusted the knit cap on his head.

_Nora must've made that,_ Lightning mused. _He'd never stand for a pompom otherwise._

He suddenly met her gaze to deliver his profound conclusion.

"I really can't promise anything," Hope declared. He cracked a smile, as if it might soften the blow, and raised his index finger. "I need my daily quota of smartass comments to cope with reality, and I can't throw them out at just anyone."

"Lucky me. You could at least try to dial it back," Lightning retorted, begrudgingly amused. She made a show of flitting her eyes down to the drowsy baby and back up again. "Doing a bang-up job of getting back on my good side after you've gone and sentenced me to this."

Hope shrugged. "I'm not naïve enough to expect forgiveness this fast. And for the record, you could've turned Serah down."

"Like hell," she grumbled, her former annoyance surfacing again. "You knew that."

"Then you could've avoided aggravating an injury to the point of complications," he stated flatly, the picture of seriousness. "Using roundabout methods to help you isn't beneath me, Light." Hope hesitated as another thought softened his features, but he seemed to reject it and took a different track instead.

"I understand what you were thinking, but I know this is better for you in the long run. I'm sorry I had to get Serah involved."

"Tch, I recall a certain god who operated like that," she muttered, instantly regretting it from the wounded look that arrested Hope's face, as if the words had stabbed him in the gut. He hastily wiped off the reaction and got up from the table, heading straight for the door.

Lightning mentally slapped herself. "Hope, I didn't mean—"

"That _god_ almost sentenced you to the Chaos," he interjected bitterly, facing the closed door. "I just want you to consider your own needs, for once. You're not a goddess, or a savior, or anyone else's _weapon_ anymore."

He turned for a moment, hand already on the knob. The way his eyes flashed in the firelight dared her to contradict his claims.

The Hope behind that look was _not_ the one standing there.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he declared, "I really do have to find Snow."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Hope's abrupt arrival and departure gave the impression of a boy-shaped storm blowing through the house, with a frigid snap at the end that left Lightning dwelling on her own pathetic state. She spent the rest of the day locked in a fierce psychological battle.

She wanted to be angry, and every so often she caught herself grumbling and scowling at the napping baby or other innocent, inanimate points of focus. The door itself ought to have been reduced to ash. But the flames of indignation and resentment consistently wore off, leaving only emptiness with a side of confusion.

Some time later in the afternoon, Lightning carelessly stumbled over a toy and finally hit her breaking point. She snatched up the offending object, turned to the oblivious Claire and let her thoughts burst free.

"You know, all I wanted to do was take care of Serah!" Lightning exclaimed, gesticulating with the crude rattle. "I never _asked_ to be anyone's weapon!" The baby followed it attentively up and down, from side to side, stretching out her hands toward it. Suddenly feeling ashamed, Lightning deflated in a long, heavy sigh and dropped the toy into her niece's grabby fingers.

"But that's all I was, for centuries," she said more quietly as she turned to the fire again. Its warmth seemed sympathetic. "That's all I'm good for."

Claire babbled in her direction, and she shook her head. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not even good for that right now."

Lightning jumped at the sound of the door creaking open, spinning to face any potential threat head-on. Instead, the room was filled with her sister's laughter and Snow's exuberant voice as they crowded inside, their conversation unbroken by the familiar routine of de-bundling. Once Serah caught sight of the baby, though, she rushed over and plucked her from the playpen, attacking her with kisses and all manner of syrupy, barely-intelligible greetings.

She eventually shifted her gaze to Lightning, and her sunny smile faltered.

"Hey, Sis… Was Claire a handful today?"

The baby squealed in apparent protest.

"Minus one pretty foul gut-bomb, she was perfect," Lightning answered evenly, trying to appear more relaxed by leaning against the stony frame of the fireplace. She shrugged for extra effect. "Easy day."

Serah hummed suspiciously for a moment, but one sniff inspection of the baby had her scurrying back to the bedroom for a diaper change.

"Wish the rest of town had a day like yours," Snow threw in, collapsing into a chair at the table. "It looks like we're in for a pretty rough winter."

Lightning crossed her arms, narrowing her gaze at him. "What are you talking about? The weather's been following normal patterns, and the border patrol has a solid handle on the wolf problem. Don't tell me there's _another_ new breed—"

"Oh no, nothin' like that," Snow corrected, waving off the assumption. "A lot more challenges to running a settlement than storms or wildlife control – supplies, for one. Then there are your garden-variety religious sects, which is the biggest pain in the ass of all. This place doesn't operate like Yusnaan. We've got hardly any infrastructure and way too many people!"

He growled to himself and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling, tipping the chair slightly until he could prop his boots on the table.

Lightning narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at the barbaric habit. But she was far more interested to get to the heart of the matter.

"So what's the main issue? Are people sacrificing food stores to some imaginary god?"

"Not exactly," Snow sighed. He took note of Lightning's scowl, directed at his feet, and righted himself in the chair. "It's like this. In the spirit of being straightforward with people for once, we've told the ones who weren't from Nova Chrysalia how they ended up, y'know, _materializing_ on a brand new world. Fun conversation, if you've ever had it: 'Oh yeah, I get that you, uh, died a few centuries back, but then this savior sort of killed god, and this saint guided the dead, and this ancient seeress replaced Etro…" Snow stopped and threw out his arms in a grand gesture.

"…So congrats! Somebody dragged your soul back out of the Chaos. Welcome to Earth.' You get the picture."

Lightning continued to eye him skeptically. "What's your point?"

"Just that these people are kinda lost and confused – even the ones that were still alive in the end. They'll take anything to create some solid ground again, and that ground is this settlement," Snow explained, propping his elbows on the table. He aimed a wry grin at her. "They _literally_ worship the dirt that you and Vanille and Yeul walk on. I'm shocked that you haven't noticed the horde of followers out there, Miss Former Savior."

"I'm used to being gawked at like some spectacle," Lightning muttered. Her left eye twitched irritably at the memory of so many hundred stares – on Cocoon, on Nova Chrysalia, and still on the new world. "Just one more reason to avoid people in general. But I still don't see how a cult following is about to wreck the whole town."

Snow stretched for a moment, his expression grave when he met her eyes again. "Well, word travelled to the nearby villages a little too fast – that 'following' has overcrowded the settlement and diminished supplies, especially once they all holed up here for the winter. It's not that no one saw it coming…" He looked away, his brow furrowing at whatever thoughts had come to mind.

"It's just that no one listened to him," Snow said, fixating intently on the grain of the table. " _We_ all know Hope's got the experience to back his suggestions, and we stick up for him, but most of the other council members don't know him from Adam. Rosch just sees some kid hanging around with me and Noel. That guy's tough as nails, but we really can't argue with popular support. Hope just comes off as…"

Snow paused to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "Well, kinda defiant to him."

"That's probably because he _is_ defiant," Lightning surmised. "I'm still trying to understand why he's so pissed off at the world, lately."

_At least it's abundantly clear why he's pissed off at me._

Snow laughed boisterously, but the sound had a sarcastic edge to it. "I think that's pretty obvious, Sis. You try leading the survivors of humanity for a few centuries, only to end up going through puberty again. No one takes him seriously – most of 'em don't even believe he is who he says he is. Some of these people weren't around for the rise and fall of Academia or the launching of New Cocoon, and the ones who were don't remember much."

"I thought Bartholomew was on the council, though," Lightning began, pushing off the stone at her back that was beginning to aggravate her right shoulder. She joined Snow at the table. "Can't he vouch for his own son?"

Frowning, Snow further explained, "That's actually more problem than solution. Just makes it seem extra crazy to believe this scrawny teenager used to be pushing thirty when his forty-something dad's right there, much less that the kid preserved humanity and basically ruled the world. Nevermind the fact that Mr. Estheim, Senior died nearly a millennium ago. And if Hope explained the whole truth behind his age, he'd probably be declared insane, or worse. There's a limit to how much people can accept. Pretty sure they'd draw the line at possessed-by-god-and-remolded-into-a-puppet-boy. Y'know, because… god demanded innocence?"

He scratched at his head in puzzlement. "To be honest, I'm kinda fuzzy on the logic, there. Brainwashed teenager doesn't equate to innocent in my mind. Maybe Bhunivelze had a nasty sense of humor."

"Tch. Guess I can see where the council's coming from," Lightning huffed. "It's thickheaded and insensitive, but it sounds about right for collective adult reasoning."

"That's pretty harsh, Sis," Serah remarked from the bedroom doorway, shuffling carefully toward the table with Claire.

Lightning inclined her head to the sound. "You mean my understanding of people, or those people treating Hope like an ignorant schoolboy?"

"And here I thought you two were in a spat." Serah giggled, to which Lightning rolled her eyes.

"I'm temporarily upset with him for good reason, and I said so to his face. It sounds like these council members are just plain patronizing."

"Yeah, well, they must feel pretty stupid now," Snow said. "He predicted that our fuel supplies wouldn't last half the winter if the 'cultists' didn't go home from their pilgrimage. Suggested we work out a trade deal with that sketchy bandit outpost in the mountains; it's the only place within a hundred miles that's still got active coal mines. Fang and Noel were all for it, and ol' Bart backed his reasoning, but everyone else had trust issues or some kind of righteous aversion."

Lightning pinned him with a threatening glare. "And what about you?"

Snow immediately raised his hands in defense, letting out a nervous chuckle before he explained, "Oh, you better believe I was on his side. Hope knows his stuff. You saw the warrens back in Luxerion – proof positive for what happens when a scared population decides to squat in the religious center of the world. He wasn't the one who founded that mess of a city, but he did try to fix the problem. Unfortunately, the Wild Lands development initiative disappeared after he did. Then the people just settled in for the long haul. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah. It's always like this," Lightning ground out, pressing her fingers to her forehead. The trade-offs for more comfortable living never seemed to pan out, no matter what world they happened to be on. She actually missed those first months in the wilderness, when it was just her, and then just Hope on her heels, and gradually the whole group of them banding together to survive. They lived day to day with no guarantees, but also without the complications of mass humanity.

Of course, it couldn't last. Not with baby Claire on the way, and not with the increasing number of people who found them, begging for protection. They eventually crossed paths with Rosch's group, and the merger was unavoidable.

With a heavy sigh, Lightning pushed up from the table. She walked past Serah and the baby, ruffling Claire's golden curls and briefly hugging her sister before she collected her things.

"Thanks for bringing news of the outside world," she said tiredly, not looking at Snow while she donned her coat and boots in a rush. "I've been completely out of the loop this week."

"Don't mention it. But hey, there's more where that came from—!" Lightning heard him call out, just before she stepped back into the winter evening. She didn't feel like intruding on their space any longer.

The wind had an extra bite, and she was halfway across the open courtyard to her house before she noticed that something was off. Despite the chill seeping into her socks, she stopped in her tracks.

Her eyes panned over the scene. The powdery ground was an icy blue in the twilight, and the outlines of their homes stood out starkly against it. A moment later, she noticed what was missing – the orange glow from their central fire-pit, gently radiating to push back the night. Tonight, there was no such fire. Not even smoldering embers.

And the others had apparently gotten the memo, because Lightning was the lone idiot standing out in the cold. Grumbling at the inconvenience, she jerked herself back into motion and tromped the rest of the short distance home.

She had barely stepped into the dim light of her own doorway – and begun to question why the fire was even _lit_ – when a pile of wooly linens landed in her arms.

"For you," Hope's voice sounded from beyond the pile. He peered around it with a small, ironic smile. "Sorry, I just let myself in. We're under fuel rations and a curfew, now. I imagine Snow mentioned the situation."

"I think he tried," Lightning said. She shoved the pile back onto Hope, nearly toppling him, and snorted when he staggered backward with a huff.

"Guess _somebody's_ still in a snit," he muttered.

"You could've waited ten seconds." Proceeding to take far more than that stated amount of time to remove her extra layers, she felt a twinge of satisfaction when he started tapping his foot on the floor.

"So, my dad tried to plead his case with me again," Hope sighed, finally channeling his impatience into conversation. "Really pulled out all the stops, this time. Round number eighty-nine of ' _Please_ stay here with us, Son!' featured worried Mom, second chances, an especially juicy bit about Cocoon-age social conventions…"

"He does have a point," Lightning said off-handedly. She swept by and snatched the linens, startling Hope again, then disappeared into her bedroom to dump them on the lumpy mattress. She planted her hands on her hips and pretended to take stock of her sparse belongings, allowing her mind to take stock of the compounding situation.

_So much for the separation period._

It didn't surprise her in the least that Hope had strayed back to crash in her living room – or more appropriately, returned from crashing at his parents' place. He'd succeeded in living with _them_ for a grand total of one month out of the year, but propriety demanded that it was technically his residence.

And while neither of them had much use for propriety, this week had presented the challenge of facing an angry roommate every morning otherwise.

Blowing out her perpetuated frustration in a long sigh, Lightning decided to set their quarrel aside in the interest of preserving the peace. For the night, anyway. Hope looked more run-down than usual.

She heard her counterpart clear his throat. Sensing his discomfort at the prolonged silence, she asked loudly, "I take it you didn't enjoy your week back home. Remind me again what the problem is?"

"Oh, just my refusal to abide standard teenage treatment, plus the creep factor of my parents being blissfully reunited," Hope called back from the main room, an obvious sulky tone to his voice. "I love my parents – I really do – but old habits die hard. It was a logical choice."

Distantly, she could've sworn she heard him mutter, "Besides, aren't you tired of being alone?"

Lightning considered giving him an honest answer. The question was rhetorical, and clearly not meant to have been heard, but it occurred to her that she could've thrown it right back. Instead, she steeled her resolve to get down to more important topics and strode out of the dark bedroom.

_After everything Snow said, it sounds like_ my _day wasn't the worst._

Near the hearth, Hope was busily arranging his blankets onto the nest he usually inhabited. He snapped his eyes up when Lightning approached the fireplace, but she kept her gaze on the flames.

_Where do I even start? If he needed to talk to me about his issues, he damn well should've said something before. Maybe I can work my way around…_

"So, you didn't like having your own room?" She flexed her fingers in the heat, savoring the tingle as they fully defrosted. A part of her mind – the part hell-bent on reconciliation – gave an approving nod to the many practical benefits of his company, not the least of which was a well-made fire.

Hope flopped back onto his nest. "Hmph, even my subconscious rejected the place. I must've drifted right out of my room every single night. Mom wouldn't press the issue, but I could tell it really disturbed her to find me sleeping at the front door. They started bolting it shut, just in case."

"In case you wandered out into the snow?" Lightning asked, trying to dampen the concern that started to creep up her throat with the question. "You've never done that before…"

His eyes locked onto hers and she cut off, bowing to his pleading, silent request that awkward situations remain unmentioned. Lightning was well aware that Hope did not typically sleep at the door or attempt escape. On the occasions when he did stray from the fireside, he found the foot of her mattress.

The first time it had happened, she'd accidentally kicked him, awakening in rapid response to his startled yelp. She had since adjusted to having the equivalent of a large dog curled up there, at increasingly frequent intervals.

And now, said puppy-eyed boy looked supremely embarrassed. Hope rolled onto his side and Lightning blinked away, finally realizing she'd been staring at him in confusion again.

"You think I'm losing it, don't you?" he nearly whispered.

"No," Lightning said firmly. "I think it's a coping mechanism. Do you…" she started in again, biting her lip as she concentrated on the best phrasing. "Do you have strange dreams, when it happens?"

_God, I sound like a therapist. Of all the ridiculous things…_

Hope rolled back toward the hearth and looked up at her, but his eyes seemed to see right through her to a distant mark. "I'm not sure if they're dreams. It feels like they were real, once."

"You can tell me about them," Lightning suggested, tacking on hastily, "If you want to, I mean." She sat at the side of the nest, mechanically going through a sequence of shoulder stretches.

Hope proceeded to cocoon himself in one of the top blankets, his muffled voice uttering softly, "Thanks, but no."

With that, a strong defense was suddenly and clearly built around the topic, so Lightning let it drop.

"Did you eat dinner already?" she asked instead.

The Hope-cocoon shrugged. "Food rations will be limited, before long. Have to cut corners somewhere."

"Dinner is the wrong 'where.' How do you expect to grow up without proper nutrition?" Lightning asked, chiding herself internally for stumbling into lecture territory again. It always seemed to happen.

"I expect to _survive_ , for now," Hope grumbled. "Maybe I can half-hibernate for the rest of the winter. Bears do it."

Lightning elbowed his leg through the covers, earning a muffled curse and a half-hearted knee to the back.

"Don't talk to me about bears. Somewhere in that brilliant mind of yours, you've got to know that hibernation requires more than a three percent body fat reserve."

"Which I _have_ ," Hope retorted. He peered over the edge of the blanket just enough to shoot green daggers at her.

Smirking under a sense of impending victory, she pushed it a little further. "Not for long, if you cut your rations."

Lightning had half-expected a comical outburst of self-righteous explanations and tossed linens, but Hope just propped himself on his elbows and eyed her in a curious, scrutinizing way. He tilted his head and she crossed her arms, every feature warning him to butt out, and he acknowledged the unspoken demand with a slight smile.

"I'm sure you've got better uses for your time than teasing me," he stated coolly. "Like washing your hair, maybe?"

She knew the withering look that overtook her face clearly communicated the message of "I will _end_ you," and left it at that for a few tense seconds. Hope just dissolved into a fit of laughter, though.

_Gross. Is it really that obvious?_

Growling, Lightning threw the nearest blanket at his head and left the vicinity to find the water bucket. The pipes were still frozen, but there could be no more delays.


	2. Suggestion

It was that time of the month, again. That time when, thanks to a particular stroke of brilliance on Serah's part, the ladies all gathered together to "be ladies," as it was put, for the better part of a day.

Lightning still wasn't terribly clear on the reasoning. In any case, it translated to Snow watching the baby and quality time with her sister, so she couldn't complain.

At least, not until Fang and Vanille started wreaking havoc on her living space. Fang had apparently found a way to make her own moonshine – a frightening enough concept by itself – which she'd saved for the monthly ritual. A couple of hours in, she, Vanille, and Serah were in the frame of mind to dig through Lightning's belongings and play dress-up.

Honestly, Lightning wondered why she'd never burned her variety of leftover garb in a blazing bonfire. She'd succumbed to wearing her Champion of Etro outfit under the force of their peer pressure, but that was as far as it would go. The armored plating made her feel clunky, and the feathery accent piece was just a nuisance that tickled her left thigh.

"Why did I volunteer to host this?" Lightning muttered to herself. She stoked the fire again, willing more of the life back into it, and took another begrudging sip of her drink.

_Ugh, I think this stuff is stripping my insides._

She was hoping the alcohol might improve her state of mind. Outside, dusk had already fallen, but the party was far from over. On any other day, she could have thrown on sweats and scrounged around for some dinner, cooked whatever-it-was on the fire until Hope came home, and invited him to join her.

_He'd get on my case for stealing one of his little chores, though,_ she thought, snorting at another of his peculiarities. _As if a grown woman can't cook for herself._

_Then again, I did burn those beans…_

Serah's giggles drifted into her thoughts from across the room as Vanille decided to strike a pose, swishing her kitty tail from side to side. She had donned a familiar teal sweater over the Miqo'te costume's top, and she rubbed its sleeve against her face, purring with satisfaction.

"Vanille, I think that sweater might be Hope's. Where'd you find it?" Serah asked. She tugged her decorative summoner's skirt lower and tucked her legs under herself, shuddering from a sudden chill.

Vanille pranced past Lightning and pointed to a low nightstand in the corner, squatting down unsteadily to riffle through a drawer.

"Over here. Hee – just look at these cute little gloves!" She waved them in the air gleefully.

_Wonderful, she's digging through_ his _things, now. He's very protective of that sweater, too._

As Lightning considered the sour reaction he would certainly have, scowling to herself at the idea, Vanille hopped up and pounced on her in a hug.

"Hey, what the hell—!" Lightning exclaimed, trying to pry Vanille off her, but the girl just giggled hysterically.

"Aw, don't ya want to hug me now?" Vanille teased, rosy-cheeked and clearly past the point of tipsy. "I've got Hope's _special_ sweater. It's so warm and squishy, and it demands hugs!"

"Clothes don't demand anything," Lightning huffed, maintaining her dignity through unresponsive stiffness. Vanille remained clamped around her waist, attempting to snuggle into her breastplate while Fang and Serah cracked up at her expense.

_I hug him one time, a_ thousand years _ago, and they still can't leave it be._

_Not that I wouldn't do it again, if the situation called for it,_ Lightning inadvertently thought, instantly shutting it down. She could feel the tingle of embarrassment creeping up her neck at her own concession.

Eventually, Fang moseyed over to the scene, practically naked in the beach-worthy Amazon Warrior two-piece, and snatched Vanille away.

"But-but she _needed_ a hug! Jus' look at her face!" the girl protested loudly, arms flailing until Fang redirected them onto herself and returned the embrace with marked enthusiasm.

"You're really missin' out, Sunshine. This sweater's soft as a lamb's underbelly."

Lightning perched a hand on her hip. "I should know. I picked it out."

"Heh, well, now we know why. Definitely cuddle-worthy." Fang winked at her over Vanille's shoulder, and she wanted to sink into the floor. Instead, she huffed and went to refill her cup, feather sash swishing against her leg.

"Where's Yeul this time around, anyway?" Lightning asked, hoping to change the subject.

"I thought I told you," Serah said uncertainly. She unfurled from her chair and scurried to the fire, hunkering down on a cushion and warming her hands before the flames. "She and Noel moved out of town last week."

Lightning joined her on the floor with a clattering of armor. "Why? I don't remember them saying anything."

"That's because they don't want it gettin' out," Fang was quick to respond. She and Vanille plopped down beside them, cozying up to each other as they completed a semicircle at the hearth.

An idea of secretive elopement came to Lightning's mind, but she sat chewing the inside of her cheek and glaring at the fire for a long minute, trying to figure out why Noel and Yeul would suddenly want to leave in the middle of winter. Everyone already knew they were a couple. No one took issue with that.

Then again, she was vaguely aware that Yeul, as the living incarnation of Etro's replacement, had been dealing with cult-related troubles similar to her own, or possibly worse. She'd seen the sprawling shrine near the eastern border before, but hadn't dwelled on what other activities might have been impacting Yeul directly—

The slam of the front door broke through her thoughts and the brief silence.

"Brr. _God_ , Light…It's f-freezing out there!" Hope panted, struggling with his bootlaces as little clumps of snow melted off him to the floor. He didn't once look up from the task. "I think there's enough wood in here f-from yesterday. Please tell me I don't have to go back out in that."

Fang snorted, and Vanille and Serah smothered their giggles.

"Light?" He finally lifted his eyes to the fire, his jaw dropping at the huddle of exotically dressed women staring or openly grinning at him. Lightning couldn't be sure if his cheeks had turned beet red from wind-chapping or just the sight of them.

"Remember how I said we were having 'ladies' day'?" Lightning deadpanned, leaning back on her hands so she could see him past Serah.

Collecting himself, Hope stammered, "I-I remember, but isn't 'day' the operative word, here?" He pulled the cap off his head and fidgeted with it. "It's getting late…"

"Aw, somebody need his beauty sleep?" Fang quipped. She snuggled closer to Vanille, running her fingers up and down the sweater sleeve suggestively. "Guess that's _still_ the big secret to eternal youth."

"Don't pick on 'im, Fang," Vanille slurred with a weak slap to the woman's arm. She stretched like the cat she appeared to be and sprawled across Fang's lap, her sleepy grin spreading wide. "His mad face isn't so pretty, y'know."

Despite his continued shivering at the door, Hope aimed a fiery glare at them. He didn't say a word as he shrugged out of his coat, and Lightning turned her own laser-sharp gaze on the troublemaking Pulsians.

"Oh, Hope, don't worry. We won't stay too long, and you don't have to leave," Serah said, her chipper voice lessening the aura of doom that was settling in the space. She clasped her hands together and sweetly entreated, "You should come over here and warm up."

"Yeah, you should totally come warm up with— mmf!" Fang cut off when Lightning's cushion smacked her in the face. "What gives? I was jus' kidding!"

"And I was just tossing you a pillow." Lightning got up and crossed the room, stopping near the coat rack in the face of a sulking Hope. She leaned in slightly to keep her voice down.

"Can you let it go?" she asked, and he nodded stiffly.

"It is what it is. I should really be used to this by now."

Lightning blew out a breath. "Fair enough. If you do need to sleep, just use my room."

"Okay." Hope shuffled uncomfortably in place, rubbing his arms. "Might as well face the music, though. I need that fire." As his eyes zeroed in on Vanille where she continued cuddling against Fang, he added threateningly, "And my sweater's being violated. I want it back."

"Hmph, your choice." Without batting an eye, Lightning added, "But if you're going to join us, you have to pick a garb, first."

Hope went rigid and sputtered, "Wha—? But I'm…" He gesticulated at his boyish frame. "I-I mean I certainly don't have…" he stammered, catching his hands before they gestured that meaning as well. He crossed his arms instead, and his eyes briefly tracked away. "Seems kind of essential."

"At least you're tall enough, now. You could just stuff the top," Lightning suggested evenly. She couldn't help but snort at the idea, though.

Hope's mouth tightened into a thin line as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "There will be no stuffing. Of _any_ variety. Which brings me to the tiny skirt dilemma. Over half of the garb have this-this…" He held up his hands and formed approximately a six-inch gap between each thumb and index fingertip, spreading them about a foot apart. "This _strip_ of fabric that shouldn't even be defined as a skirt."

_I don't recall complaints when you were watching me run all over creation in them. My, how the tables have turned._

Lightning smirked. A small, wicked smirk. "I had to do battle in those strips of fabric. But if you'd prefer, a couple of the garb have pants."

"They're still form-fitted to _you_ and your nonexistent— Ugh! I shouldn't have to explain it," Hope declared, slapping his palm to his forehead in exasperation. He shuddered, either from an actual chill or his obviously disturbing thoughts.

"Light, you can't be serious about this."

"No. I'm not that cruel."

Hope breathed a massive sigh of relief, and she rolled her eyes and pulled him along by the sleeve.

Once they were finally settled back into the group, and as Fang bowed to their combined demand to extricate Hope's sweater from a half-sleeping Vanille, Lightning took up her cup and tried a couple more bracing swallows for the sake of her continued sanity.

Hope watched her with growing interest.

"Light, what are you drinking?"

"Oh, this…" She faltered, glancing around until her eyes hit the half-full jar on the table. Belatedly, she waved her arm toward it. "Fang made it. Don't ask me how. Or why."

He cracked a sly little smile. "Can I have some?"

In the moment, Lightning saw the clash between something that was _there_ behind his expression but not explicitly present, and she couldn't seem to do anything but stare back. His incongruous grin had stalled her.

_Why can't I just say it? 'You're too young for this.' But he isn't, exactly…_

Across from them, Fang laughed and casually encouraged, "Go for it, kid."

"I haven't been a kid in ages," Hope said under his breath. He shifted his eyes to Lightning's drink. "Can't hurt to try it."

Lightning passed the cup to him, her own thoughts beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges. "Here. I am definitely done."

To his credit, Hope took a decent-sized gulp of the brew. His face twisted in immediate revulsion as he coughed and sputtered, sending Fang and Serah into a fit of laughter. Even Lightning chuckled at the reaction. She whacked him on the back a few times.

"Didn't think you'd like it."

"Whoa," Hope groaned, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids. "Pretty far cry from decent whisky. You could strip paint with this stuff."

Lightning raised an eyebrow at his observation, but voiced none of her burning questions on the extent of his familiarity with liquor. As if he wasn't already a walking paradox.

"Eh, that's an understatement," Fang conceded. "At least it keeps your insides warm." She carefully arranged Vanille's head on her lap, eliciting a few soft snores when she scratched behind the cat-ears, and absently tossed his sweater over.

As Hope tugged it on, he asked, "So… Did I interrupt anything besides the closet invasion?"

"Only the explanation about why Yeul couldn't join us," Lightning said. "Did you know she and Noel left the settlement?"

"Yes," he replied, without hesitation. "And I don't blame them. You of all people should understand."

"I should?" Lightning replied, a tad defensively. "Please, enlighten me. As far as I can tell, none of the rest of us have tucked tail and run from the meddling population, here."

Hope looked her straight in the eyes for a long moment, frowning as he apparently came up at a loss. "You really don't get it, do you? Unlike you, Yeul wasn't able to just blend into the border patrol or hide away. The only life she ever knew was as a revered seeress, and now she's practically the goddess Etro to these people. She feels obligated to fill that role."

"Well, she shouldn't," Lightning declared, matching his sudden intensity. "However many hundreds of her former selves are all stuck in the Unseen Realm for eternity serving their souls. That's more than enough."

"Then I guess she's yet _another_ stubborn person with a complex," Hope retorted, throwing up his free hand. "Followers flock to her, and she tries to help them with whatever they need, but these people are never satisfied!"

Heaving a sigh, he took another drink and concluded, "She's only human, after all."

"Yeah, so Noel moved her off for her own protection," Fang added lazily. "I definitely get it. Gotta fight off Vanille's little fan club, myself. They get kinda rabid sometimes, with their Saint worship and whatnot. Not that it's anything compared to the Savior worship around here."

Fang made a mystical noise and wiggled her fingers in Lightning's direction, then bowed her head in mock reverence. She flicked her eyes back up and smirked. "Have you even dropped by the big-ass shrine on the other side o' town, O Mighty Savior?"

"No. I make it my business to steer clear of the pious mob," Lightning said flatly. She turned to Hope with a look of sharp accusation. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of a 'Savior' shrine?"

He stared right back, a darkness swirling in his eyes. "Pardon me for not bothering to mention the _thirteen-foot-high_ statue of you. Frankly, it's disturbing. I tried to get a closer look at it, once…" He paused, glancing at the cup still in his hand, and forced down yet another gulp.

"That was a mistake."

"I'm beginning to think _this_ was, too," Lightning snapped, snatching the empty cup from him. "I don't care if you think you're twenty-seven – your physiology says otherwise. Now, I want to know exactly what happened."

Hope shrugged and picked at a thread on his sweater, obviously trying extra hard to be nonchalant. "I got a little too close. Didn't get the memo about any 'sacred ground,' naturally, so when I touched the base of the statue, I got knocked back by some hooded guardian. FYI – it's a ten-foot exclusion zone on the site. Inner circle of believers _only_."

There was no mistaking the acid in his tone. Lightning was momentarily at a loss, although her hand itched to plant itself on his shoulder or pat his head. She could easily imagine Fang piling on the remarks for that sort of gesture.

_He probably wouldn't appreciate it, himself._

Hope continued to play with the stray sweater material as Serah asked timidly, "Believers in what?"

"Good question," Lightning said off-handedly. "It's kind of a known fact that I was the Savior. I'd be grateful if they _stopped_ believing."

"I'm still trying to figure out this business with the New Order of Salvation, Serah," Hope sighed, brushing over Lightning's tetchy side-commentary. "Whatever belief system they have probably started out as a gesture of gratitude for what the Savior did, but now it's evolved. I think they've got it in their heads that if they worship the most powerful person from the old world – and in their minds, it's Lightning, since she defeated Bhunivelze – they'll have a leg up on a better reincarnation, or something to that effect."

"Tch, that's absurd," Lightning scoffed. She crossed her arms atop her metal-clad knees. "As if I have that kind of power. I can bleed out and die, the same as anyone else."

Hope slowly turned his head and cast a horrified look on her. He shook it off immediately, his brow furrowed as he became absorbed in the fireplace.

"Well, that reasoning sure explains why Yeul has such a crazed following," Fang remarked, lying back on the assorted blanket stack of Hope's nest. She yawned loudly and stretched out her bare legs, resettling Vanille's head on her stomach. "She's the goddess of death walkin' among us. Who wouldn't wanna get in good with her?"

Turning more fully toward the flames, Hope made a slight, derisive snort.

"Yeah, since it works out swell for the people who are closest to the so-called deities," he said quietly, his thin shoulders slumping as he fought to stay upright. The general weariness from an unnaturally long and burdened existence seemed to be crashing down on him in that single moment. It struck a chord with Lightning that resonated through her chest, and she couldn't stop herself from taking action any longer.

She fiddled clumsily with the armor at her left hip until she detached the train of feathers, smoothing it across her lap. Hope's back was mostly to her, his eyes lost in the fire, so she reached out and tentatively squeezed his arms.

He was startled at first, whipping his head around to search her face. "Light, what—?"

Hope spotted the feathery blanket and the question died on his lips. When Lightning tugged him back, he lay down without the tiniest bit of resistance. He shifted onto his side and released a long, tired breath.

"Don't get used to this," she muttered. Serah's sidelong glances and growing smile of satisfaction were not helping. Mercifully, Fang had nodded off along with Vanille, and her sister gave a little wave shortly thereafter, excusing herself to change clothes in the bedroom.

Feeling strangely content, Lightning took note of the living warmth curled against her leg and the soft fabric under her fingers, reflexively stroking the sweater sleeve and ruffling Hope's hair. The sudden vibration of his amused voice caught her by surprise.

"Am I your pet, now?"

Her face burned, and she pulled her hands away in haste.

"You're being ridiculous again."

"No, I'm just making an observation," Hope countered. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at her, wisps of his hair blending into the silver-tinged feathers beneath. Framed in that softness, his face was oddly serene. Angelic, even.

And far too young to have gone through all that he had.

_Wait. I can't think like that! Damn it, I know better._

His brow wrinkled with concern, probably at the self-berating look on her face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't complaining."

Lightning cleared her throat, battling her persistent discomfort to awkwardly pat his head. "Well, like I said," she reiterated, "Don't get used to this."

_God knows_ I _can't._

* * *

It happened week by dragging week, but Lightning gradually came to accept her nanny routine and even work it to her advantage – especially once her own household had normalized. During the day, baby Claire was a captive, eager audience, a tension-diffuser, and a built-in time limit on both isolation and in-town excursions.

One such sunny morning, her niece turned on the patented mournful whine after breakfast. Her doll did not help.

A diaper change did not help.

More food did not help.

"Okay, then what _do_ you want?" Lightning asked, hands on her hips. Her eyebrow twitched as she tried to keep from showing a scary face. It must not have worked, because Claire tuned up even louder than before.

Ultimately, Lightning stepped outside for a moment, breathing in the sharp, cold air to clear her head. She remembered Serah's errand list a few moments later and decided that the baby might just need a change of pace.

Lightning rushed back inside and went straight for the little sled at the door. She had Claire bundled and strapped in tight within five minutes. Even before they departed, the mere motions of preparation had already quieted her down, and Lightning smirked at the small triumph.

Pulling the sled along, she wove through several outlying housing compounds on the journey toward town, hardly running across anyone.

When they reached the edge of the square, it all made sense. Lightning groaned to herself at the mob of blandly-clad people milling around from stall to stall. She had made a point to avoid market days since the settlement's establishment, but it was obviously that very occasion.

Her streak, and her luck, were broken.

_Ugh, why today?_

Of course, there was no such thing as skipping down to specialty shops on any given day, and only basic supplies like fuel, food, standard outerwear and blankets were distributed by ration. When Lightning pulled out the wrinkled list from her coat pocket, Serah's requests made sense:

" _Got my first paycheck! Here's a couple of things I need from town today:_

_Little walking booties for Claire_

_A new pen/pencil (whatever they've got available)_

_Saw some new beanies last time – I wanted to get one for Snow's birthday, so please try to pick a nice color!"_

Lightning ran her eyes over the list again. For one thing, she had no intention of using Serah's money when she'd been at her former border patrol job much longer, and the last time she'd bothered to buy anything had been for Hope, anyway. The teal sweater, which had also been a birthday gift.

And he'd become fervently attached to it, to her everlasting surprise.

Serah and Hope clearly had more confidence in her taste than she did herself.

_Just when did I become the resident birthday gift guru? That's probably what landed me here, after all._

_Then again… There was something I needed, too._

Lightning recalled an observation from the previous couple of weeks, which Vanille initially uncovered during their visit – Hope had stopped wearing his gloves, for no apparent reason. And he refused to give a reason. Reaching back into her pocket, she dug out the confiscated items and slipped one on.

Sure enough, the little thing was a bit too snug of a fit, even on her.

"Yeah, I thought so."

She sighed and pulled her scarf high enough to cover her nose, gazing dully over the crowd again. An excited squeal from Claire startled her, and she finally dragged her feet forward.

"Let the quest begin, I guess," she muttered.

They had barely breached the fringe of the square when Lightning noticed the awestruck stares and hastily lowered gazes, pointedly blocking them out. The way people parted wherever she went was unnerving, and she tried to stay positive with reminders that it saved her time.

At least the merchants were willing to deal with her normally. She'd procured the moccasin-like booties for Claire and the pen for Serah in no time. Now, she stood face-to-face with a colorful display of beanies.

Dyes from the wilderness were tricky, but this craftsman knew his stuff. Lightning flitted her eyes back and forth from the navy blue, to the black, to the dark red, fiercely deliberating.

When someone touched the back of her sleeve, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned sharply with a question on her tongue, but it died as the slender hand pulled back, quickly burrowing into its coat pocket. Her eyes shifted back up to meet the green ones she expected.

"Surprised to see you out here, Light," Hope said. He smiled in a way that suggested he'd actually been watching her progress for a while.

"I'm surprised, myself," she replied, diverting her eyes to the baby on the sled. Claire was still playing with the string around the small parcel that contained her booties.

Laughing, Hope squatted down and let the end of his scarf dangle in front of her, and Claire's mittens immediately latched on to the new plaything. She gnawed on the fringe in contentment. He briefly reached out a hand to tickle her, but it went straight back into the pocket for shelter.

"So, have you made a decision, yet?" he asked.

Lightning shook her head clear. "Hm? What about?"

"Snow's beanie," Hope explained.

_Oh. Not the gloves. Of course he doesn't know._

"Right. That," she sighed, turning back to the display. "I've got it narrowed down to three. Red, black, or navy."

"Do you want my opinion?"

"Actually… Hey, wait a minute," Lightning said, suddenly staring him down again. "How did you know what this was for?"

Hope straightened up and faced her, his eyes shining with innocence. "Oh, well, Serah asked me if I thought it was a good idea, for his birthday. I said yes, considering no one here manufactures fireworks or boxing gloves."

Lightning snorted, finally just asking, "Then what's your opinion on the color?"

"Navy," Hope replied, not even blinking. "Why no one's bothered to put that man in anything blue over the centuries confounds me. He has blue eyes. It's common sense, but he always ends up in black or other neutrals."

"Huh. I guess that's true." Lightning raised an eyebrow at the lengthy insight – she'd never wasted half a thought on Snow's fashion choices – but followed the advice. Once the beanie was purchased, they moved on through the shops together.

And Lightning thought the stares had been bad _before_.

"What is wrong with these people?" she grumbled.

Hope shrugged in her periphery, his gaze still fixed on the snowy path in front of them. "They revere you. They're just judging _me_. I can leave, if you want."

"No," she snapped, and she practically felt him flinch. "I really don't give a damn what anyone thinks about me, or you, or anyone. And I still need your help with one last task."

"Oh. What is it?"

Lightning stopped in front of the shop she'd been seeking, simply pointing at the merchandise.

"Try them on."

He looked back and forth from the selection of gloves to her immovable stance a couple of times, eventually blushing and huffing at the ground.

"What, all of them? I have gloves, you know. I've just misplaced them…"

"You mean these?" Lightning pulled out the incriminating items and waved them in his face. When he made a move to snatch them, she pulled back. "We ought to hand these down to Dajh. Just look at this."

Again, she removed her own glove and tried on one of his. The tight fit was as comical as it was uncomfortable, and she took it off just as fast.

"Light, that doesn't prove—"

Without warning, she reached out and pulled his left hand free of its pocket. It was pale and icy to the touch, only strengthening her determination. Lightning pressed it flush against her own hand for comparison, and his proved to be only slightly wider but certainly longer.

"There you have it."

Hope stared at their hands, his mouth falling open. He couldn't have turned any redder. The mix of everything confused Lightning to no end.

_Shouldn't he be pleased? He_ wants _to be the adult he was—_

He severed the contact a little too abruptly and snatched the fingers of his old gloves, trying to reclaim them.

"Just let me have them back," he begged in a low voice. "Please, Light? I'll worry about new gloves later. Maybe Mom could even knit some—"

"You'll worry about them _now_ , for the five minutes it takes you to find a pair that fits," she countered stubbornly.

Still far from relinquishing her hold, the argument cut off when Hope was suddenly torn away from her in a swift yank. Several feet separated them before Lightning could begin to process why – a shrill cry from Claire first pulled her attention to the sled. The baby only flailed and cried again.

_Okay, she was just startled…_

Lightning's narrowed eyes snapped up and quickly zeroed in on the stranger responsible. He stood at a short distance, maintaining a grip on the back of Hope's coat.

As unexpected as it was, Hope seemed paralyzed. He'd gone completely rigid in a sort of controlled response, but the look on his face was of cold fury.

"Let him _go_ ," Lightning ground out, every authoritative and protective instinct channeling into the words, and the man instantly obeyed. She couldn't have placed him if she'd wanted to – his face was partially shrouded by a hood. He would not make eye contact with her and seemed uncomfortable even vaguely looking in the direction of her face.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "And what makes you think you can shove people around like that?"

He dipped his head reverentially. "I am a humble servant of the Savior. I could not stand by and watch this _boy_ treat you with such disrespect."

_Tch, one of these clowns, huh. Time to set some things straight._

"You really don't have any idea who Hope is, do you?" Lightning started in, trying to keep her cool when her right fist itched to deliver a swift punch to the jaw. Righteous indignation rose up within her and spilled out. "Your little cult likes to put me on a pedestal, but I was just a servant of god myself until I found out the truth. Do you want to know why I had to take god down?"

The man took a sharp breath, ultimately unable to speak. Hope's eyes about doubled in size. Lightning could sense that he wanted to interrupt, so she pressed on before he could.

"It was because he decided to trample on this boy's soul and use him as a puppet – _his_ idea of a perfect human vessel. And god was going to throw him away, too, just like the souls of the dead," she declared, already feeling many more pairs of eyes on her. For once, she relished it.

_Maybe they'll back off, after this._

"So I want you to tell your leader, whoever that is, that I don't take kindly to people treating Hope like trash. Do not touch him again. Am I clear?"

Stunned, the man finally stammered, "B-but, Savior, if what you say is true… His soul may be _corrupted_. Please, for your own good—"

" _I'll_ decide what's best for me," Lightning snapped. Her eyes blazed, and her words were indisputable.

The strange man ducked his head and scurried off, and it seemed the rest of the onlookers had the same idea. As they dispersed, she heard low mutterings that echoed the man's sentiment, and a tiny seed of doubt planted itself in her mind.

_A corrupted soul? Who would believe that nonsense?_

_Then again, half these people probably worshipped Bhunivelze for centuries, only to be betrayed. I just can't see why they'd still fear him._

Finally, just the three of them remained in front of the shop. Baby Claire left off chewing the packages in favor of beating them with her mittened fists, perfectly oblivious again on her cozy sled. Hope continued to stare at nothing, utterly horrified. He hadn't moved a muscle the entire time.

When she caught his gaze, he looked at his boots. "This is bad, Light."

Approaching, she took him by the shoulders. "Worse than getting pushed around?" Lightning asked. When he didn't move or answer, she squeezed slightly.

"Hope, look at me."

He did. His features were tortured. "Do you… think it's possible…?"

"Not a chance. Bhunivelze is rotting in the depths of the Unseen Realm," she said firmly. "He won't be manipulating you or anyone else, ever again."

Gently, Lightning turned him toward the shop display.

"Now. I need you to choose a pair, before the baby gets hungry and pitches a fit."

"Alright." Hope rubbed his frozen hands together and did exactly as she asked, numb fingers fumbling with a few different gloves before he found a pair that fit properly.

"These, then?" Lightning asked.

He nodded, shifting awkwardly in place. "Thank you. Let me pay you back, sometime?"

"Don't worry about it."

Lightning didn't detect an ounce of true expression in the entire exchange. She knew subjugation when she saw it. Maybe it was out of fear or lingering shock, but she could tell Hope's emotions were throttled again.

Honestly, she preferred the defiance.


	3. Straws

Lightning spent the next two weeks on high alert, waking each morning with a mission-worthy adrenaline rush. She didn't have the luxury of prowling around town to directly assess the situation with the so-called New Order of Salvation, but that didn't prevent her keeping an ear out for news and a watchful eye on Hope's behavior at home. Not a word from his mouth, a single nervous gesture, or his occasional lack of appetite escaped her scrutiny.

And while she mechanically went about her days with Claire, she wondered how long it would take for the other shoe to drop. She jogged home each afternoon anticipating an incident report from Hope or an empty house – some sign of backlash for what she had said and done in the market.

Still, the third week came to a close with no indicators of trouble from the cult. Other than Snow's recent report on the Order's new trend of black armbands bearing her Savior insignia, nothing striking had been passed down. She was gradually beginning to relax, but a nagging sense of danger remained. It lingered in the air of their home like the slightest of gas leaks.

Lightning was not quite ready to drop her guard.

As Hope headed for the door that Friday morning, she asked him again, "You've got my knife with you, right?"

"As always," Hope said, his dragging feet and the sinking tone to his voice catching her attention. "But I'm pretty sure stabbing someone wouldn't do any good for my reputation. I'll be lucky if it doesn't get confiscated."

She joined him at the coat rack, looping the scarf around his neck while reading his every move.

"Where are you going today?"

He shrugged, slipped his gloves on, and grabbed his knit cap from a hook. "Where I usually go when there's no council activity and nowhere else to go. Back to school."

Lightning latched onto his coat sleeve before he could escape, reiterating for what had to be the fiftieth time, "Nothing says you have to leave. You can always stay here or help me at Serah's."

"Light, you've got to let this go," Hope sighed, pulling the cap over his bed-head. He set his lips in a thin line and burned his eyes into hers. "I have to keep trying to find my place and do my part. I refuse to just give up and disappear. We both know that gets us nowhere."

His tone carried the weight of judgment. Jolting backward from him, she snapped, "Don't make it sound like I _chose_ to give up on the border patrol. And if you're holding my decision to crystallize in Valhalla against me—"

"No!" he blurted, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm holding this against myself! For my own weakness. Don't you think I understand what it means to be beaten into submission? To do everything possible, right up until that final straw breaks you?" He gripped her arms and tracked her evasive eyes.

"For you, it was Serah. I get it. I've been there," he murmured, finally glancing away. "But that existence is over, and we _all_ need to move on."

"It's not that simple, though. Is it?" she said. They stood suspended in a tense moment of reflection, unsaid thoughts buzzing in the air like electricity before dying away.

Hope suddenly flashed a grin as he released her and opened the door. "I thought you liked a good challenge."

"Hey, don't get cocky!" Lightning gave him a light shove outside, smiling to herself at the restored spring in his step. He waved, and she returned the gesture, pushing back the fear for his safety that still lurked in the corners of her mind.

His words had conjured up a taunting new question, as well. Any of Hope's little revelations from the centuries she had missed were rare, and they always spiked her curiosity. He claimed to know how she felt – no, to have _felt_ that same sense of defeat she'd experienced after Serah's death. And if that was the case, Lightning had to ask herself…

_What exactly broke him?_

* * *

The question refused to be ignored. Baby Claire's dirty diapers and fistfuls of food mush be damned. It spiraled Lightning's thoughts out of control.

All because she had no good answer. She understood what happened to Snow, Noel, and Sazh. She had experienced their pain and grief at the loss of their closest loved ones, and she'd fought through their bitterness to restore hope and a will to go on, even at the end of the world.

Hope was a different case. He'd been mysteriously overtaken long before she came on the scene. Targeted, trapped and remolded. And Lightning knew him too well to believe he'd gone down without a fight, even against a god. The mighty Bhunivelze had required a bargaining chip for her support as the Savior, after all. He clearly was not omnipotent enough to bend whomever he wanted to his will – least of all the Hope she had seen and heard about. The one Snow remembered.

The one she never got to know.

_Maybe it was just too lonely at the top,_ Lightning wondered, aimlessly collecting toys from the floor. _I can relate to that, I guess…_ She retrieved a ball from under the table and started backing out on her hands and knees.

_But was he really alone?_ Lightning recalled a certain man from Luxerion who lost his entire family and somehow forgot them, along with his plot to avenge their deaths, in his ageless existence.

_After all, three centuries is more than enough time to find someone and tragically lose her—_

She stood too soon and banged her head.

"Damn it…" Lightning walked in a circle as she massaged the sore spot. When Claire toddled over, she hefted her into the air and asked, "What do you think? Would Hope keep a secret like that from me?"

The baby wriggled in her grasp, let out a shrill note of protest, and kicked her in the ribs.

"Ow! Okay, fine," Lightning grumbled. "I'll take that as a no." She planted Claire on the floor and continued straightening up the room.

_Have I ever even asked him, though? He said a lot of his memories were fuzzy, but he's always having those nightmares. It has to be related._

Lightning mulled over that distracting line of thought for another hour, alternating her babysitting tasks with rounds of shoulder stretches, squats, and sit-ups, but by the time Serah finally came home, she had come full circle to the concerns of Hope's present.

It didn't help that her sister stepped in the door with a less-than-convincing smile.

"Hey, Sis," she greeted, plopping a bag of rations on the table and glancing around the room in search of her baby. She spotted her on a pallet in the floor, a trickle of drool trailing down as she slept. "Sorry I'm late. The distro center _finally_ got a shipment in from one of the villages down south, so it was kind of a madhouse. How was Claire?"

"She tried to eat a pebble and a lint ball, but I took care of that. No other issues," Lightning summed up. As she gathered her things around the room, she asked, "Anything new at school?"

"Actually," Serah dragged out, twisting the end of her ponytail around her fingers, "I needed to talk to you, before I forget. About some strange things I've been hearing."

Lightning stopped in her tracks. This was going to merit her full attention. She took a seat at the table and waited for Serah to do the same.

"What kind of strange things?"

"Well, I don't know if he told you, but Hope's spent a lot of time at school the last couple of weeks," she started in, and at Lightning's nod, continued. "I've heard quite a few cult-related rumors circulating in the cafeteria, and even in my class around the same time – rumors about him. You know how kids are. They probably hear stuff at home and just repeat it at school. No filters…"

"Did Hope come to you about it?"

"No, he kind of avoids me over there," Serah admitted, a little pout forming. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Then what about these rumors?" Lightning asked again.

Serah shifted her eyes away. "It's pretty hard to take seriously. Maybe the kids are exaggerating things, but they're basically saying that Hope is evil. That his soul is tainted, that he's possessed, that he's some kind of demonic manifestation Bhunivelze created to trick you— I wish I was making this up! But I guess they really believe it, because they won't go near him in any common areas."

Lightning glared off at nothing in particular, holding her rising anger at bay to ask, "What about in his classes?"

"I wondered the same thing. So I talked to a couple of his teachers after school today," Serah pressed on, fidgeting with the buttons on her sweater. "It was pretty discouraging. I think they believe something's wrong with him, too. Mostly because he always aces their tests, no matter how much class he misses. One of them also said he's freakishly quiet."

"Sounds like everyone else does enough talking, anyway," Lightning ground out. She stood stiffly, whipped her scarf from the back of the chair and tied it on in a rush, heading for the door. "I knew something was wrong."

"Maybe it'll die down soon," Serah tried, but her hopeful expression faltered and she cast her eyes to her lap. "I mean, I don't even know where this New Order of Salvation is getting such crazy notions. It can't be long before everyone sees that Hope isn't a threat, right?"

"I wish I could believe that, Serah," Lightning sighed, stopping with her hand on the knob. "But right now, I intend to get to the bottom of this."

"Well, if you're going to confront Hope," Serah offered, "Try to take a more subtle approach. And it's a sensitive subject, so be gentle. He'll probably clam up or get defensive, otherwise."

Lightning frowned and rubbed at her left temple. "Subtle and gentle is _not_ my forte, but I'll keep that in mind."

Jerking the door open, she growled at the blast of cold wind in her face and the entire situation at hand. Lightning marched away in the snow, muttering to herself, and stormed toward her home with a dozen points of interrogation forming in her head. She batted at them like pesky flies.

_No, no, no! A barrage of questions isn't very subtle. But how else am I going to find out_ anything _?_

She finally stepped inside and shut the door behind her. The clicking sound of the latch rang in her ears before it was sucked into a void of silence. All her words jammed in her throat when she looked to the fireplace.

Hope was standing at the hearth, but he didn't spare a glance to acknowledge her arrival. He didn't even seem to hear the door close.

So Lightning watched him as he added split log pieces onto the fire. He alternately stoked the hot embers and blasted them with the bellows, pausing for the occasional cough.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was off about him. Not once looking away, she removed her boots, her coat, her scarf…

And it hit her. She strode over to where he stood and gripped the end of the dark green scarf that trailed down his back, beginning to unwind it.

Hope dropped the poker and arrested her hand in mid-air. "Don't."

"Why are you still wearing this?"

"Maybe I'm still cold." His voice was scratchy and weak. Lightning freed her hand and turned him by the shoulders. He wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Maybe you're lying."

_Be gentle. Come on, let's not make this any worse._

She turned his face from side to side, zeroing in on the redness around his eyes, and asked instead, "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"This isn't your problem," he rasped.

"Your problem _is_ my problem. You trust me, right?"

Hope nodded, but he still flinched when she started unwrapping the scarf again. As the last of the fabric slipped away, Lightning spied faint, pinkish marks on the sides of his pale throat. Her fingers hovered over them, trembling as a surge of anger coursed through her.

"Who did this?" Her words were slow and stilted. It was all she could do to keep her voice in check.

Hope coughed harshly, sinking down to the floor to hug his knees. "It doesn't matter. I'd guess they were in a grade above me, but I didn't recognize them."

" _They_?" Lightning hissed.

_Goddess help me, I've never wanted to murder teenagers so badly._

She clenched her fists and made a swift round of the room before calming herself enough to join him on the floor. "So. It was more than one. Did you run or try to fight back?"

"It's easy enough to run from just one boy. Clearly, I didn't get far." Hope continued to stare at his hands, his broken voice coming and going when he added in a rush, "I tried to get the knife, I swear, but the biggest one knocked me onto my back. Pinned my hips with this-this _crushing_ weight. I couldn't even use my legs. A-and the other two got my arms. The big one pulled my hair to make me look at him, when he called me an abomination." He coughed again and rubbed at his sleeves, over and over. "Then I couldn't breathe…"

Lightning stilled his hands and took them in hers, and he raised his face, blinking hard as he bit his lip. "Hope, listen. I hate to keep making you talk," she began, beating back the sting behind her own eyes. Her stomach had tied itself in a dozen knots. "But I need to know everything. This might call for a trip to the clinic."

Shaking his head, Hope pulled a hand free and traced over his neck. "Nothing else happened. Some people were coming down the hall, so they scattered. My throat's just sore. Maybe a little swollen."

Lightning dipped her head for a moment to blow out a breath of relief. "That can still be dangerous," she explained. "I should get your parents. They can take you to the clinic, just to be safe."

"No!" Hope croaked, reclaiming both of her hands. "Please, I don't want anyone else involved. This is embarrassing enough."

"Hope, I'd take you myself if I didn't think—"

"I don't need to go!"

"Then we're making a compromise," Lightning declared, abruptly standing to her feet and crossing the room. "I'm going to get Vanille. She's done enough charity work at the clinic by now to be useful. And you are _not_ going back to that school."

Snatching her coat from the rack, she paused to give him a once-over. "Are you going to be okay for a few minutes?"

At his slight nod, Lightning was out the door.

* * *

"And you didn't, y'know, go under?" Vanille asked, to which Hope shook his head again.

"Well then, lucky for you." She probed lightly around his neck, feeling for spots of concern, but ultimately sat back with a sigh. She smiled, cocked her head to one side and extended her arms.

"Your sweater, please."

Hope stared back at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why? And no."

"Lightning said they pinned your arms. So let's just have a look."

Rolling his eyes, he slowly pulled his arms out of the sleeves. "I think you're just trying to steal my sweater again," he scoffed as he tugged it over his head.

From across the table, Lightning could see the bruises around his wrists and forearms. She truly hoped that his t-shirt wasn't hiding additional damage.

Vanille whistled in awe. "Must o' had them shaking in their boots if they pinned you that hard."

"They wanted to see how _immortal_ I was," Hope rasped, slouching in his seat. He rubbed at his damaged wrists. "Probably expected some outburst of divine power."

"Aw, well that's too bad." Vanille patted his head. "Light would've shown the little devils some divine power," she added, winking over at Lightning. "Wouldn't ya? Teach them what's what."

_Tch, I would've obliterated the bastards with the power I used to have._

"If only," Lightning muttered into the hand her chin rested upon. She directed her gaze at Vanille and asked pointedly, "Is he in the clear, then?"

"Oh yeah!" she replied, bouncing to her feet. "He'll be sore and hoarse for a few days, but I don't think there's any permanent damage."

_Not on the outside, anyway,_ Lightning thought, observing the tremor in his fingers as he ghosted them over his neck again.

After Vanille departed, Lightning attempted to make hot tea, Hope donned his sweater and attempted to drink the tea, and they sat at the table for several minutes without a word.

"Do you think you can eat anything?" she asked.

Hope shook his head.

Lightning walked around the table and helped him to his feet.

"Let's sit by the fire, then."

They settled down on cushions, soaking up the warmth and silence like it was any other evening. When Lightning gathered Hope to her shoulder, though, the tears finally came. Sobs racked his frame as he choked on them, so she held him more tightly and tried to talk him through.

"I'm here," she murmured. "It's okay. You're safe with me."

Eventually, she felt his body relax and his breathing settle against her neck. Hope continued to cling loosely to her waist, but he pulled back after a minute or two and swiped his sweater sleeve over his cheeks. The serious set to his mouth caught Lightning off-guard.

"Light, do you feel safe with me?" he asked.

Floundering, she blinked rapidly and replied, "How— What do you mean by safe? I don't understand."

"Are you ever afraid of me?"

"Of course not," Lightning said, frowning at his reasoning. "Why would I be?"

Hope released a sharp breath through his nose. "People think Bhunivelze still has a hold on me. They believe it enough to hurt me. I can see real hate in their eyes. And sometimes I wonder, because of my dreams… It's like he _is_ tormenting me."

"That sounds more like post-traumatic stress disorder," Lightning refuted. "We've been over this. I killed Bhunivelze, plain and simple."

"If it's just PTSD, why am I the only one suffering from it?" Hope countered hoarsely. "We all went through hell before the end, and you know it. You had a fake Serah dangled in your face, Sazh thought he was going to lose his son, and Snow turned _Cie'th_. But you're all perfectly fine. What's so wrong with me that I can't just be normal?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, we're not perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you, either."

"Really? Then what is it about me that bothers you?" Hope pressed. He tilted his head, following her gaze when she dodged his. "And don't deny it. I've seen the look on your face plenty of times. Like something is off that you can't quite place."

Lightning huffed, her brow knit in frustration. "You don't bother me. I just can't figure you out sometimes." She smacked a fist on the cushion and added, " _This_ is one of those times. If I was scared or bothered by being close to you, I wouldn't just let you live here and cry on my shoulder, now would I?"

"You might," he sighed, resting his chin on his knees. "You're stubborn and fearless. Maybe you just put up with me because you pity my sorry condition, or you think it's your duty to keep on saving me."

"I'm not fearless, Hope." Lightning reached out to ruffle his hair, and she offered a sad smile. "This isn't about pity, or any damned obligation. I'm afraid that people will keep hurting you – maybe even take you from me. And I'm afraid that I won't have the power to stop them. The best I can do is to keep you close."

Hope's eyes filled to the brim by the time she finished. He returned her smile, lowering his knees and moving in to wrap her in an embrace.

"I'll stay close, then."

Lightning's heart decided to wage war on her ribcage, but she lifted her arms anyway. He was warm, he was safe, and the sudden rush of gratitude tightened her hold.

It left her with the uncanny feeling of completeness.


	4. Shift

Winter passed, slowly but surely. Its relatively dragging pace had been a source of aggravation to both Lightning and Hope, and she'd often wondered if the others even gave it a passing thought. Hope had a handful of theories, himself: the shorter days and longer nights, the listless feeling from getting less sunlight and less food, the cold temperatures slowing down body functions and creating an illusion of overall slowness, etcetera.

But those were just peripheral factors. They had ultimately agreed that the long winter was due to the aimless nature of life, lately. That it was a byproduct of Lightning's redundant nanny routine while her sword arm healed, and of Hope's wandering about while their friends found creative ways to accompany him.

After the strangling incident, Lightning had taken no chances about leaving Hope to his own devices. He was 'bumped into' by Snow or Fang every weekday in town and subsequently ushered off to council meetings, development sites, or even some of the border strongholds. His mother was the only one who still believed he attended school, courtesy of his own convincing stories at their weekly family dinners and Bartholomew's interference on his behalf. They had a common goal – both wanted to keep Nora happy. That entailed a certain degree of obliviousness.

As Hope put it to Lightning upon one very frustrated night when he returned, it wasn't as if he had a single moment to be himself around his parents.

For her part, Lightning kept her restlessness to herself. She still dreamed of vanquishing enemies on different worlds or crossing swords with Caius in that strange, timeless realm of Valhalla, often awakening with an aching shoulder. And as jarring as that experience was, she could only guess what terrible visions and memories haunted Hope's sleep.

But they were getting steadily worse.

One particular morning, Lightning's sleep was disturbed by a sharp whack to the shin. She cursed into her pillow, groggy but still taking stock of the mattress's undulations.

_What on Earth—?!_

Lightning popped upright and gathered her legs in close, rubbing her eyes to assess the situation.

Hope was tossing fitfully in his blanket. As she listened carefully, she could hear the occasional whimper or unintelligible word.

"Hope, what's going on?" she asked, inching her fingers toward his face. Lightning caught the shine of tear-tracks in the gray light from the window just before he flopped away again, her fears multiplying.

She rolled him by the shoulder onto his back with as little force as necessary, but he writhed under her grip. A fresh tear trickled from his eye.

"Please… Don't." As soft as his voice came out, she knew he was probably shouting in his nightmare.

"Don't what?" Lightning asked, but all he did was struggle harder. She gently shook his shoulders. "Hope, you need to wake up. Can you hear me?"

"I _always_ hear you," he whispered harshly. His face contorted in desperation. "Make it stop…"

The plea got hold of her heart and squeezed. Lightning took a deep breath, reminding herself that he was obviously talking to some horrible nightmare creature – that his mind had likely registered and twisted her question. She pulled him upright and balanced his face with one hand.

"Hope, open your eyes. Right now."

He instantly obeyed. His milky green irises went in and out of focus, ultimately fixating on her face.

She tried a smile, and he gasped in terror.

"No, no… I-I woke up! Let me go!" he cried, twisting and pushing back from her. "I'm awake! Damn it, why are you still here?"

_He's still asleep. He has to be. He's seeing someone else…_

"Hope, it's just me," Lightning explained, attempting to calm him with logic. She released him and held up her hands. "You were having a nightmare. I've been trying to wake you up."

Hope scrambled back into the corner, curling in on himself. He rubbed at his arms and shook his head. "Don't… Don't touch me."

"I won't," she said, squashing down the sting of his words. "But you need to wake up. You were crying, and you're scared. Tell me why. I want to help."

The pre-dawn light was terribly weak, but she caught Hope's confused expression as he focused on the rest of her for the first time. His eyes tracked up from her threadbare sweatpants to her tank top, and she crossed her arms self-consciously. Something about the gesture flipped a switch – his features suddenly relaxed. He shook his head and met her gaze.

"Light, I'm so sorry," he mumbled, lowering his eyes for a moment. "I-I couldn't see you very well. And I didn't mean to push you like that, it's just… it's… It's something I'd rather not talk about."

Lightning sighed, stretching out the phantom ache in her shoulder. "Was Bhunivelze involved?" she asked.

"You could say that." As calm as he was, she read nothing in his posture that suggested he wanted more comfort. The barrier was up again.

"Well, you've obviously got a lot of creepy memories in that head of yours. If you ever do need to share, I'll listen." With that, Lightning crawled back to her spot at the head of the bed and slid under the covers, leaving Hope to his thoughts.

He still sat in the corner nearest her, staring blankly out the window through a small gap in the curtains. A red-breasted bird had perched on the sill and tapped its annoying greeting. It cocked its head at them.

"Light, what's today's date?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, thinking. "It's the twenty-first."

"Of March, then," Hope supplied.

"Yeah," she deadpanned. "It's _been_ March for twenty days, thus far."

Hope gave her an exasperated look. "My _point_ is that today is the first official day of spring."

"Okay…" Lightning yawned. "So the council just made another pointless declaration. Good for them."

"Actually, no. This astronomer in town headed up an almanac project with several scientists last year, so it's based on their research. Today is predicted to be one of two days in the year when nighttime and daytime hours are equal," Hope further explained, his face suddenly alight with excitement. "They're calling it the vernal equinox."

"Fascinating." Lightning burrowed deeper into her covers, muttering tiredly, "The snow's been melting off since February, anyway. But feel free to keep talking about random facts until we both konk out."

Following suit, Hope lay down next to her and cocooned himself in his blanket. He grumbled as an afterthought, "Hmph, I thought you didn't believe in sleeping in."

"It can't be any later than five-thirty, on a Sunday," Lightning said, eye-balling him over the line of her covers. "That does not constitute sleeping in. I've got no burning task to accomplish right now, and I see no practical application for this 'official' first day of spring."

Hope arched an eyebrow at her. "Well, if you're still keen on going back to the border patrol, you should be wary of the mating wildlife. They get kind of single-minded and pissy."

Growling, Lightning grabbed her pillow and smacked him in the face. "I will throw you out of this bed in two seconds," she warned. "That's _not_ a joke."

Hope snorted and covered his grin with the blanket as he backed into the wall. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "To answer your question, the only practical use for today is the traditional spring cleaning spree. But it's not a hard and fast requirement or anything…"

The mention of a very useful and necessary project rang like an alarm in Lightning's head, followed by a sudden rush of ideas powerful enough to drive away all desire for more sleep. She sprang up from the bed in seconds, quickly formulating a plan of attack. She yanked the covers from Hope, dragged him out of his reactive fetal position, and ushered him from the room amidst a flurry of complaints and entreaties to stay.

She slammed the door and went for her clothes, her mind on overdrive.

_We've got to air out_ everything _. And organize the pantry. And the fireplace needs a total overhaul—_

Hope knocked, his voice muffled as he continued to protest, "Light, my socks are in there! Could you tune back in to reality long enough to—!"

Lightning cracked the door, flung the socks in his face, and slammed it again.

She heard him grumbling to himself as she stuffed one leg into her cargo pants.

"Looks like sustenance is in order. What do you want for breakfast?" he asked resignedly.

"What are the options?" she asked, stuffing in her other leg, securing the pants and digging her bra out of its drawer.

There was a beat of silence. "Oatmeal, oatmeal, or oatmeal, if I'm not mistaken."

Lightning rolled her eyes as she hooked her bra and twisted it around. "Are those the actual options, or are you just sore about your banishment?"

"Actual options," Hope huffed. "Maybe I should follow Sazh's example and take up chicken farming."

After throwing on a clean tank top and raking her hair up into a rough ponytail-bun hybrid, Lightning finally opened the door. She crossed her arms and stared Hope down for a few seconds, drumming her fingertips on her left tricep.

"If there's only one option, why bother asking what I want?"

He took one look at her and shook his head, his irritation seeming to vanish. He cracked a smile.

"Force of habit. Do you want cinnamon, too?"

Lightning stalled, unsure for a moment if it was his sudden attitude adjustment or his enigmatic smile when he asked the question that made her want to retreat to her room. She stood her ground, nonetheless.

She looked past him and cleared her throat. "Yes. If we have it."

"We do," he assured her, going for the small pantry. He started to set supplies onto the table. "Oh, and honey…"

Lightning narrowed her eyes, asking shrewdly, "Was that a question?"

_He wouldn't dare._

"Not really." Hope poked his head around the pantry door, holding out a small jar of golden liquid. "You don't like honey?"

She ran a hand over her face, feeling downright silly. "Since when do we even have honey?"

"Since last weekend. I guess someone decided to offer it at your statue's feet, so I brought it back for you." Hope pulled out the water jug and poured an appropriate amount into a small pot, sprinkling in a dash of salt, and Lightning automatically snatched it up to boil it over the fire.

"I thought I told you to steer clear of the shrine," she said toward the pot.

"No one was guarding it," Hope muttered. "Not in that weather."

"Oh, and wandering around alone in a storm is a safer choice."

A palpable tension suffused the air between them. Hope growled and clamped his hands around the table edge. " _Nothing_ is a safe choice. Not even being here."

"You'd rather be somewhere else, then?" Lightning asked coldly.

Hope deflated at that, sinking into a chair.

"No. I'm aware of all the risks, Light. Just let me pick my own battles. Okay?"

The shift in his voice alarmed her, especially after the rough night he'd just endured. She decided then and there to nip it in the bud. Lightning abandoned her task and strode to the table with purpose, startling Hope before earning a questioning stare. She grabbed the jar of honey, unsealed the lid, and dipped a finger in to test it.

She sucked the fingertip clean with a nod of approval. "Okay. I guess this was worth it."

Hope nodded dumbly. Lightning wasn't sure what to make of his expression, but his eyes were fixed on the little honey jar with profound longing.

So she shoved it in his face. "Here," she ordered. "Try it."

"Oh, no, thank you," he started in, blushing and further confounding her.

"Why not? You obviously wanted to," Lightning insisted.

Hope bit his lip, his eyes straying as he stammered, "A-actually, that wasn't—"

The loud hiss of water hitting fire reached their ears as the pot boiled over. Hope jumped to his feet and rushed over to rescue it, heaving a relieved sigh when he returned to the table. He immediately stirred in a measure of oats and took both pot and spoon back to the fireplace.

Lightning followed with the honey jar, still harboring a sense that something was unresolved.

_Does he think he's not allowed to have this, just because someone dedicated it at the shrine? Of all the superstitious crap…_

Further determined, she dipped her other index finger into the jar and held it in front of his face.

"Just try it already. And don't be a germaphobe."

Hope's hands tightened around the pot handle and the spoon. "It's not that—"

"Look, it's not _holy_ honey," Lightning huffed. "We wouldn't even have it if you hadn't picked it up. You're not allergic, are you?"

"Um… I don't think so," Hope begrudgingly admitted.

Instead of reiterating her directive, Lightning just cleared her throat and moved her fingertip closer to his lips. With a small puff of a breath, he finally opened up and captured half of that finger. She had to admit being completely unprepared for the sensation of someone else'smouth dragging on her skin – innocent intentions notwithstanding. It sent a pleasant tingle up her arm and into the base of her spine.

Lightning did not approve of that. She pulled her hand back with a small pop of separation and stared pointedly into the pot of oatmeal.

As she rubbed her temple in a vain attempt to dispel that feeling, she muttered, "The honey should be an improvement."

"Mm-hm," Hope agreed. Casting a sideways glance, Lightning watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed, his unwavering focus still on the oatmeal. With a strange sort of slow, dazed determination, he stirred it a couple more times, plucked the honey jar from her hand, and poured a large dollop into the mix. He returned the jar, swirled in the honey, and gave his head a vigorous shake.

"Could you…?" Hope began unsurely, his thoughts obviously realigning on the proper track. "Bring me the cinnamon, please?"

Lightning allowed a small chuckle as she mussed his hair. "Sure. Happy Spring, by the way."

A shy smile pulled at his mouth. "Happy Spring, Light."

* * *

Not long after breakfast, Lightning was beating the dust out of the large fur rug with a broom when Sazh strolled by. She said nothing, assuming that he would get her attention if he wanted to chat. Ever on task, she gave another round of vicious swings, beads of sweat starting to roll down her face.

"Mercy, woman," Sazh remarked. He came to a full stop in front of her and whistled a long, descending note. "I think it's dead."

She finally ceased the assault and leaned the broom against the wall, swiping an arm across her forehead. "What do you care whether my rug lives or dies?"

Laughing heartily, Sazh shook his head and gestured at the array of items stacked around the front of the house. "I'd just like to know what's goin' on at this hour."

"Spring cleaning," Hope answered for her as he stepped through the doorway, arms loaded down with another stack of her garb. He deposited them onto the nearest box. "If you're not prepared to join the initiative, I'd run while you can, Sazh."

"Actually, I came lookin' for you!" Sazh declared, grinning widely. He strode over to Hope and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Gotta round up some sharp minds for a new project o' mine."

Hope perked up immediately. "What sort of project?"

"A mass transit system. As in rail lines to connect the known villages and mines and such," Sazh said excitedly, drawing trails on the air. "I've already got a few engineers and surveyors on the team, and some of 'em worked with the old rail system. But we're not dealing with the same capabilities here. What we lack is a visionary."

He tapped the side of Hope's head, adding encouragingly, "I need you to turn those creative wheels. Think ya can manage that?"

"You had me at 'project.'" Hope smiled so widely that Lightning wondered if it might break his face.

_Yeah, you didn't look so pleased about this cleaning spree. Tough luck._

"Speaking of projects," she began, narrowing her eyes in his direction. " _This_ one is still ongoing." She punctuated the statement with a loud _thwack_ of her broom to the rug.

Hope's shoulders sagged, but Sazh shook the life back into him. "Don't sweat it today, son. How 'bout you drop by my place tomorrow at eight, and we'll head into town from there?"

Nodding, he gave a more cautious smile. "Sounds great. Guess I'll see you then." He ducked his head to add, "And thanks, Sazh. Really. I needed something like this."

"I had a hunch," Sazh replied with a wink. "After I pitched this project to the council last week, Snow just about tackled me. Said you'd be the best man for the job."

Having long since ceased her rug-beating, Lightning observed the way Hope ran a nervous hand through his hair, trying to be unassuming.

_Centuries pass, and he_ still _doesn't take praise well._

"I'll do whatever I can," he offered, and Sazh strolled off with a wave.

"Try not to kill him before tomorrow, soldier girl!" he called out.

She didn't gratify the demand with an answer.

"Like I'd ever take it that far," she grumbled to herself. It rubbed her in all the wrong ways to imagine them dragging Hope into the public arena again, even if that was clearly something he wanted.

_He'll be in much more danger on a project like that._

Nearby, Hope snickered at Sazh's teasing, and Lightning snapped her head to the sound. She thrust the broom handle in his face.

Hope latched onto it immediately. "Sorry. I'm still sleep-deprived, you know."

"Excuses are for children," she huffed, marching back into the house. "If you want to be treated like an adult, work like one."

She heard his footsteps trailing after her. Hope caught up and grabbed her arm as she reached the table, trying to get her to turn around.

"Light, I _do_ work like an adult," he said. Lightning could picture the hurt look on his face to match his voice. "As much as I can. I need opportunities like this project to branch out. No matter what I do, it just doesn't make much difference, so long as I'm stuck in this body. I know you try to understand, and I appreciate that, but half the time you can't look me in the eye."

When his hand fell away, she spun to face him. To prove him wrong. She planted her hands on his shoulders and met the gaze that had recently begun to surpass her level, stifling the urge to blink away.

"I won't stop trying. Don't underestimate me."

She talked a big game, but Lightning felt her breathing constrict when the alien soul behind his sea-foam eyes searched hers. He dove deep and left himself vulnerable. She had not wanted to glimpse the things going through his head; a part of her still feared what she might uncover.

All she found there, though, was something akin to the gentle admiration she'd always known from Hope. He smiled warmly and diverted his eyes to her straying ponytail-bun, which he reached out to adjust.

"I wouldn't dare," he said, and Lightning remained at a loss.

She wanted to bask in that gaze a little longer.

* * *

It was midday by the time they got the house in order – or, in other words, _almost_ to Lightning's standard.

The same could not be said of Hope.

"Light, why do I have to stand out here, again?"

"You're a walking tower of soot," she called from the window, not even pausing from her task of wiping the panes. "And it's laundry day, so I doubt you have anything clean."

"Then give me the laundry. I can always wash up at the river, first," Hope suggested. Lightning only half-heard his words, but in seconds his ash-encrusted face popped up in front of her over the windowsill. Before she could process his sudden arrival, he'd drawn charcoal war-marks on both of her cheeks.

" _Hope_ ," she growled, swatting at him with her cleaning rag. "You dirty little imp—!"

He somehow dodged the attack to plant another streak on her chin, laughing outright, but she managed to snag the front of his shirt.

"You're really asking for it, aren't you?" Lightning demanded, fighting a grin in spite of herself.

_Stop being so… so…_

His lips were set in a crooked smirk. She couldn't seem to shift her focus from them.

"Yes, please. Just the laundry."

"The laundry…" Lightning mouthed. She shook her head and let him go, backing away from the window until she stumbled over a bucket. "I'll be right back!"

_What the hell—! I must be dehydrated. Yes. All this dust is messing with my head._

She downed a glass of water, meandering around for a couple of minutes before finally locating the laundry basket. She hauled it to the front door and waved for Hope to retrieve it.

He looked from the overflowing basket to her face in confusion. "Light, are we out of soap?"

"Oh, right," she muttered, running to the supply closet and back. "Here."

Hope took the box, still side-eyeing her with concern. "Thanks. Are you feeling okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Er, no reason," Hope retracted, clearing his throat. He hefted the laundry basket from the ground and headed around the house. "See you in a bit!"

"Be careful!"

_Please._ For a moment, there in the doorway, Lightning's head swam with the possible scenarios for danger – the majority centering on the prospect of enraged animals in combat for mating privilege. But it dawned on her that nitpicking the various species of wildlife and their behavior wasn't addressing the bigger issue.

_The river is still infinitely safer than being in town._

_Am I seriously letting him go, tomorrow? Is Sazh even equipped to protect him?_

Lightning tested her shoulder out of habit, more than pleased by its recovered range of motion. She had been training on her own for over a month with the goal of rejoining the border patrol in April, but the arrangement wasn't set in stone.

One word to Serah, and she knew she could free her schedule. After all, Lina – formerly known as Chocolina – had already agreed to take over her nanny role in two short weeks.

It was enough.

Stopping only to toss her scattered cleaning supplies into a bucket, Lightning jogged straight across the expanse of spotty new grass toward the Katzroy home. Dajh was running circles around the large tree growing inside the front yard's stone wall. At closer range, she spied the chicken he was chasing.

His dark-haired surrogate mother danced into the yard to snatch the boy, laughing as she planted a kiss on his forehead and a serving of chicken feed in his hand. It always threw Lightning off, seeing the former chocobo-woman in her fully human element. She had only been reunited with the family for a few weeks, but she slipped into her place with Sazh and Dajh like a hand to its intended glove.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lightning!" Lina called out, waving one arm in a wide arc at her approach.

Dajh continued to bounce in place. "What's up, Light?"

Lightning patted his poof of hair. "Just had a question for your dad. Is he around?"

"He's back in the chicken coop," Lina answered, flipping her wrist and tisking. She shifted her weight with characteristic sass and propped a hand on her hip. "They really are worth the trouble, I just can't get used to the practice of eating eggs, you know."

"Well that's… understandable." More chatter was not forthcoming. Lightning swiped at the sweat collecting on her neck, scooping up the wayward chicken on her way to the path around the house. "I'll just take this escapee with me."

"Aw, don't make it look so easy!" Dajh called after her.

Lightning shrugged and kept moving. "Hens can't hold a candle to chocobos."

In the back yard, Sazh emerged from a small coop with a basket of eggs. Lightning released her chicken to flap away, and the flurry of feathers and squawking startled the older man. He stumbled and almost dropped the egg basket, clutching at his chest.

"Always gotta make an entrance," Sazh quipped with a breathy laugh. He set the basket down on the back steps and dusted his hands. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, warrior queen?" He imitated drawing streaks under his eyes, reminding her of the marks on her face.

She hastily rubbed at the dark smears, mentally stomping the blush that tried to creep in. "It's about your project proposal," Lightning pressed on. "And Hope, in particular."

Sazh eyed her with a knowing half-smile. "You don't wanna let him go, do you?"

"No, that's not what I mean." Lightning crossed her arms, adopting a defensive stance. "I think he's a good fit for what you need, it's just—"

"You can't guarantee he'll be safe out there," Sazh finished. "I get it. I've heard all about the incidents and the rumors and what-have-you."

"Exactly. So I have a favor to ask."

"Want me to keep a close eye on him?" he suggested. "As if I wasn't already gonna do that."

Lightning pressed the points between her eyebrows and took a cleansing breath. "No, I can't expect you to run the project _and_ play bodyguard. I want to do it myself. And I want you to endorse this as a condition of Hope's joining the team."

"Hmph. He's not gonna like it." Sazh raised an eyebrow, but when Lightning gave no response or indication of backing down, he sighed and scratched his head. "You're really set on this, huh?"

"Yes. I have to take responsibility. In some twisted way, the New Order of Salvation thinks it's doing me a favor by making his life hell," she explained, her expression darkening. She glowered at the poor chicken strutting nearby. "The one time I tried to straighten them out with words instead of a sword, I made it worse."

Sazh stroked his goatee for a thoughtful moment. "Well, I guess if you insist," he conceded at length. He made a wringing motion with his hands and held them up. "It's all on you to break the news, though. I'm good with you bein' on the site, but I won't compromise my team dynamic just to push your agenda, missy."

Lightning nodded her agreement. "That's fine by me. He'll hate my guts for a few days, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Then I look forward to watchin' your little tiff from a safe distance." Sazh chuckled and pulled a small cloth from his pocket, tossing it to her just before he stepped inside the back door. Lightning snatched it out of the air.

"See ya bright and early!"

"Count on it," she replied, sounding far less uneasy than she felt.

Lightning wandered away from their back yard, thoroughly scrubbing at her face with the cloth and ruminating on a dozen possible ways to explain her arrangement to Hope. She diverted briefly to speak with Lina, keeping her discussion of the circumstance at a bare minimum, and found no issue with the earlier hand-off of nanny duties. She even took initiative to drop in on Serah and work out a few details.

But when all was said and done, Lightning just didn't feel comfortable going home.

_I should check on Hope. He could use the help, anyway._

Her feet found the sandy path leading into the trees, down toward the riverbank, and she easily wound her way by their familiar markers to the usual boulder. She debated with herself about telling Hope her intentions, changing her mind at every point of reference.

_Maybe I should explain myself right now. Get it over with._

_Or not. It would spoil the rest of my Sunday._

When Lightning reached the spot, she stopped cold at the unexpected silence. The wash-bin was predictably in place. As was the laundry, soaking in a foamy bath.

Only Hope was missing.

Lightning instantly sharpened her eyes and ears, looking for signs of a struggle and straining to hear subtle noises over the roar of a distant waterfall. If a large animal had caught Hope off-guard, he would have run or hit the trees, but she knew he would've returned once the coast was clear. She padded by the wash-bin without a sound and scrabbled up several smaller boulders to a safer vantage point atop the largest one. From there, she panned her gaze over the woods, the path, the line of the riverbank from its farthest point in the distance to her own position…

She caught a flash of movement near the base of the boulder and snapped her eyes down.

Lightning had about two seconds to process the pale shoulders and back above the water line before Hope straightened up. All her thoughts of threatening animals and carnage evaporated like steam off the hot spring below, replaced by a rush of relief, but that soon gave way. She held her breath, immobilized.

_Wait, what am I doing? I should get down. I really should…_

When Hope tossed his head back and combed his fingers through his pewter hair, she felt something inside her come unhinged. Suddenly, the sheen of water trailing down his arms became its own distraction.

Worst of all, he wore a perfect little smile. The same smile that had scrambled her wits twice over the course of the day.

But this time, reason warned her that it was the _only_ thing he wore.

_Look away. Damn it, look away before—_

Hope opened his eyes and gasped at the sight of her, both of them momentarily paralyzed. A feverish blush crept over his face.

"Light?" he choked. Another second later, Hope came to himself. He dropped into the water all the way to his neck, staring up at her in bewilderment.

"Why… are you here?" he asked slowly.

Lightning shook her head clear, shifting uncomfortably on her perch while she tried to recall the objective. "I, uh… I thought you might need help."

Hope raised an eyebrow and asked, "With what, bathing? Did you think I needed a lookout?" He snorted at that, smiling again. "Actually, a lookout would've come in handy, just now."

"Listen, I came to help with the laundry," Lightning corrected stiffly. "I didn't see you anywhere, so I climbed up here to scout for wildlife. Forgive the intrusion."

Hope hummed a falling note as he traced his hands through wisps of steam on the surface, and she had to wonder if he was trying to make her even more miserable.

"So… How long were you watching me?" he asked, continuing to play his fingers over the water.

Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose, growling to herself. "A few seconds, at most. I'm sorry, okay?"

"I'm not looking for an apology. I'm more interested in knowing why."

"Because I didn't know you were there!" she exclaimed, slapping her palms against the boulder. She could feel the blood rising in her cheeks. "It was just an accident."

"It wasn't an accident after the first second or two," Hope refuted. He crossed his arms and cocked his head at her. "We both know that. I think I at least deserve an explanation."

Finally, Lightning threw up her hands. "Look, I don't know why! Maybe I just… wanted to know what you were smiling about," she huffed. She took a deep breath and stared off across the river, wondering if that had been the wisest of answers.

_At least it's sort of true, right?_

"Alright, if that's all it was," Hope began, a grin pulling at his lips again, "I can just tell you. I was thinking about… Well, about you. I'm sorry, but you're not as unpleasant as you pretend to be. Even when you're mad, you get this-this— I don't know, almost _passionate_ look. You're just… very real."

Suddenly on the spot, Lightning sat up straight and took stock of herself, coming up at a loss. She couldn't deny that she was _real_ , but aside from that, she saw a collection of underutilized muscle and extra parts in a dirty tank top and cargo pants – no more, no less. Nothing special. She felt her ponytail-bun sagging off to the left and quickly tightened it.

"I wouldn't put myself on a list of happy thoughts," she muttered.

Hope shrugged, still grinning. "My mind, my choice. Do you think I'd admit that if it wasn't true? Of course, then you were right _there_ , and I thought, 'God no, she can't see me like this!'"

"I didn't see much," Lightning said flatly. The image of slender fingers gliding through his hair sent a little shudder down her spine, and she jumped right into the climb down the boulder. "You've put on some more muscle, though. Congratulations."

"Oh. Uh, thanks. I-I didn't really notice," Hope stammered. "I'd better get out before I become a total prune. Don't come around here, okay?"

"I won't." Lightning could hear him splashing out of the hot spring shortly after. She plunged her hands into the sudsy bin of laundry and breathed.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

* * *

Lightning did not do indecisive. Thus, it aggravated her to no end when the hours ticked by without her finding a moment to tell Hope her new agenda. The moments existed, but she couldn't force the words from her throat that might break the spell of Sunday.

And more than that, every time Hope brought up the subject of tomorrow's promising project, he got little sparkles in his eyes.

"It's not like a rail system can run on air," Hope explained, his hands working with energetic precision as he folded his pants into a perfect square. "Even our whisper-quiet monorails needed electricity from large-scale generators – something we've only just begun to develop. I've already got several ideas, and I really do think we have the resources…"

_Damn that enthusiasm._ Lightning meticulously creased and folded the last of her tank tops, flattening it onto the pile. With nothing else to occupy herself, she propped her chin in her hand and alternated between watching Hope's odd but intricate folding and watching the series of expressions that lit his face with each creative explosion.

_It's like a single thought set off some kind of epic fireworks display._

"…definitely going to be low-tech for a while. I'm just not sure if Sazh would go for that. What do you think, Light?"

Hope was staring at her again, his green eyes curious.

She snapped to attention in her chair. "What?"

"Do you think I should bring up biofuel?" Hope asked, the slight but serious crease forming between his eyebrows. "I mean, it could be jumping the gun." His eyes flitted to her rigid and perfectly squared-off stack of shirts and back to her tense face.

Lightning had lost the actual content of his conversation amidst the frustration and sparkliness. Rubbing nervously at the back of her neck, she cleared her throat.

"I don't think it's my call. And I don't know much about biofuel."

"I can give you an introduction," he offered, happy as a clam again, and she narrowly resisted the urge to bury her face in the laundry.

Instead, she half-smiled back and snatched her clothes stack to put them away. "Maybe some other time."

"You can always just say you're bored," Hope said, his smile morphing into a smirk. He got up and hauled his own laundry to the small nightstand near his nest, calling toward the bedroom, "We don't have to keep talking science. I mean, I'm not the only one who ought to be reveling in my newfound sense of purpose. You still haven't said much about your border patrol reintegration. When's the big day?"

Lightning shrugged as she reentered the living room, maneuvering around the table and going straight for the teakettle. "It's my choice, really." She ran the tap, watching the uneven splatter of water from the spigot until it half-filled the kettle, and turned to go. She froze mid-step.

Hope was blocking her path.

"And that choice is…?" he asked casually, stretching up to grab the teacups from a higher shelf. He'd seemed to materialize there, startlingly close in the narrow space between the cabinets and table. "Come on, I know you're dying to get back out there."

He contorted himself to avoid the kettle Lightning held in front of her, floating the cups over her head but still bumping her arm.

"Oops," he laughed. "I'll take that." Hope lifted the kettle by its handle, gently prying her hand free when she didn't automatically release it.

The contact sent a prickling sensation over her fingers. She let her right hand hang in the air, blinking down at it in puzzlement, and reached up to rub her healed shoulder.

_What now? Don't tell me there's nerve damage._

"Light, are you feeling sick or something?" he asked, his free hand fidgeting with the teacups. "You've been acting strange all day."

Hope stopped fidgeting and studied her, his concerned frown absorbing her attention. One half-second thought whizzed through her mind on the subject – that it was pout-like and soft. She tried to obliterate the thought, but she already felt the heat radiating from her face. When he placed the back of his hand against her forehead, Lightning briefly wondered if a fever was coming on.

_That would explain a lot._

"I'm fine," she said tersely, backing out of range. "And I haven't made a choice on my return date, yet."

"Okay," Hope replied. He eyed her skeptically but walked away to put the kettle on to boil. "Just let me know when you do."

The conversation was intermittent from there. Not that Lightning minded, and the two of them settled into tea time at the hearth as usual. For the most part, anyway. Her mind kept trying to tangle itself up over the way he cradled and manipulated the cup in his hands, but eventually bedtime rolled in like the tide after a long, lazy day at the shore.

"You know, there's one thing about tomorrow that's even more enticing than the big project," Hope said, brushing her shoulder as he got up from the cushion and stretched. He shuffled straight to his pallet and flopped onto his back with a happy sigh. "Blessed independence! I can't _wait_ to get out of the conspicuous babysitter rotation. I can stay around Sazh in town, now, so Snow and Fang won't have to drag me off to random 'safe' zones. Or treat me like a toddler at a theme park. I'm still eternally grateful they didn't put me on a leash."

_Oh, wonderful. If I tell him, right this minute…_

Lightning felt her stomach churn uneasily at the idea of derailing his vent session. Instead, she feigned a nod of agreement. "You've got a point, but I doubt it was that bad. Except with Snow, maybe. He tends to make his presence known."

"Fang wasn't much better," Hope muttered. "Both of them like to tease. I know they mean well, but I ought to be able to do _some_ things for myself. I just… Really miss being autonomous. And I do prefer some privacy."

"Well, you're not exactly alone much, here." Lightning got to her feet and made for her door with purpose, dropping their empty cups into the sink along the way.

"I never said I wanted to be alone. Being with you still counts for my introverted needs," Hope corrected. He propped his head on one hand and half-smiled at her. "Sweet dreams, Light."

"You, too." She stopped in the doorway, frowning as she seriously considered what monumental progress that would mean for him. "Give it a shot, anyway."

"Sure. I'll think happy thoughts."

Lightning couldn't shut the door fast enough. She sank down on the edge of the bed, staring absently at the tank top and sweats that she needed to change into. She'd already spent most of the afternoon and evening suppressing little pop-up images from the hot spring, but the harder she tried and the closer Hope got, the more they persisted. The instant she stripped off her shirt, they were back with a vengeance – his fingers in his hair, his perfect smile, and the way he tripped over his honest explanation.

_Because he was thinking about me._

Lightning dropped her pants to the floor and kicked the pile aside. Looking up, she caught her reflection in the dingy mirror. That willowy, smooth-edged person was a lie. She was stronger than that. When she ran her hands over her arms, the muscle was hard as rock, and her palms were rough with callouses. She traced the collection of slight scars over every region of her body. Her face seemed pleasant enough when she smiled a bit, but she licked at her chapped lips in annoyance.

_Well, this is me. I just don't see what's so great about that._

It was obvious to her what men, or even other women, preferred – girls like Serah, or Vanille, or Yeul. The ones who were sweet or silly or innocent. They were soft and feminine. And it wasn't that Lightning disliked herself. She took pride in her strength and her scars. She just harbored no delusions about other people liking her, and she never cared.

She never needed anyone else to like her. But in spite of that, someone did. Someone who was growing into his own graceful form at a rapid pace.

_No, stop that. He shouldn't. And I shouldn't…_

Clenching her teeth, Lightning stood abruptly, discarded her bra and threw on her sleeping things. She hid herself in the covers, her pulse racing uncomfortably. The heat was suffocating, even with the window open, so she ended up tossing back the blanket and keeping only the sheet. Between stewing on what exactly would constitute Hope's happy thoughts and why exactly she hadn't told him about the bodyguard gig, she tossed and turned for hours in a doomed quest for sleep.

And when Hope crawled onto the end of the bed sometime later, she was still half-awake. His sleepwalking instinct had been triggered again – his eyes never opened. She watched him curl up and spoon her banished comforter, his back to the wall and his face near her leg. He took a whisper of a breath and smiled in his sleep.

_At least he doesn't hate me, yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: A little fluff, anyone? Not the whole thing, of course, but a good bit... As much of a downer as the last chapter (mostly) was, I feel that it's owed. And NO, I didn't plan it this way, it's just dumb luck that the rollercoaster is hitting a super-fun spiral portion now ;-) Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed what was definitely one of my favorite chapters to write.
> 
> Also, for your situational awareness, there truly ARE such things as naturally-occurring hot springs at riverbanks. Just sayin'. I've been to one myself. Very much looking forward to your reviews!


	5. Strife

The morning crept in, chilly and inevitable. With a slight shiver, Lightning accepted the onset of sleep-deprivation. She half-rolled out of bed and gathered her clothes and gear with as much stealth as she could manage, stopping to make sure that Hope was down for the count. He had turned onto his stomach and stretched out to nearly the length of the bed, still tightly hugging her comforter.

Sighing with relief, she changed out of her sleepwear and donned the rough but practical field gear issued for the border patrol. She'd just stuffed her right foot into its boot when she heard a rustling from the bed.

Hope pushed himself upright and rubbed his eyes. "Hey, Light," he mumbled, smiling sleepily and raking a hand over his shock of hair. He blinked at the dark window and groaned. "Looks like you've got a commanding lead on the baby's Monday routine. And Serah's. And mine…" His words bled into a drawn-out yawn.

"I'm not watching Claire, today," Lightning replied. She wrapped the excess length of strap around her ankle and knotted it, moving to the left boot.

After a few seconds of squinting at her in the darkness, Hope finally caught on. His eyes widened, and he quietly uttered, "Oh. I see. You made a decision, then."

"Yes." She straightened up and went for the closet again, feeling around for the hilt of her Ultima Weapon.

_Not so ultimate anymore, are you?_ Lightning thought, dragging out the scabbard and sword. She could feel Hope's eyes following her, but she didn't spare a glance on her way to the door.

"I'm just going to warm up."

"Are you coming back for breakfast?" he asked, a tenuous hope attached to the question.

Lightning paused mid-stride. She pinched her eyes closed and considered his proposal. Hope obviously thought she was heading back to the border patrol, and in her heart of hearts she preferred to keep it that way until the last possible second.

_The longer I stick around, the faster he's going to notice something's up._

_But that's the whole point. Stick around – keep him safe._

"Sure. Just go back to sleep, okay?"

Hope smiled again and snuggled down into the covers.

"If you say so."

* * *

By the time Sazh, Hope, and Lightning made it halfway across town, the would-be bodyguard thought she might snap under the tension – some of it courtesy of the New Order of Salvation. The black armbands bearing her tri-tipped insignia seemed to be everywhere, and she had to wonder just how large their membership had become.

Sazh acted oblivious to the curious attention the three of them attracted in the town proper, but Lightning knew that he was just keeping his cool and doing what he thought might minimize any potential encounters.

That entailed an introductory chat with Hope about the project team's makeup and expectations.

Hope swallowed nervously, forcing his eyes ahead while he kept track of the conversation. "So these workers… Do they already know I'm coming on-board?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, they're well aware," Sazh replied.

"And they didn't object?"

Sazh just chuckled. "It's my team. I make the rules, and they can suck it up."

"Something tells me they might not suck it up as readily as you'd like," Hope muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Heh, I think you've underestimated my resources." Sazh nudged him with his elbow, adding surreptitiously, "We got this. Trust me."

Lightning remained conspicuously silent. It would've been an ideal time to jump in, but she feared that Hope's reaction would be _less_ than ideal in the middle of the morning rush of townspeople.

She also feared that time was running out.

"Light, when do you have to report?" Hope asked at length. "Not that I don't appreciate the company, but we're almost there. I don't want to make you late."

"I'm not late. Don't worry about it."

_Almost there. I can see the industrial district…_

He shrugged. "Alright. Just don't feel obligated to make this a routine."

"Now hold up a minute," Sazh interjected, stalling for a moment to glance back and forth between them. He fixed his scrutinizing gaze on Lightning and asked pointedly, "Aren't you—Er, where exactly are you reporting?"

"My place of duty," she said, unblinking.

Sazh ran a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation. "My god, woman," he muttered under his breath. "I never pegged you as a procrastinator. But whatever, let's move along."

They pressed forward in a heavy cloud of silence, accompanied only by the sounds of boots on dirt and soft murmurs from what few people remained.

"So you _are_ running late," Hope muttered a minute later, side-eyeing her as they crossed the boundary to the industrial district. "Please don't do it again. Not for my sake."

Lightning cursed under her breath, her hands forming fists. "I'm not late. This is my place of duty."

"There's a squadron this far from the outskirts?" Hope asked in disbelief.

"No."

"You're on some kind of special assignment, then?"

She nodded stiffly, staring off at the Spartan, single-storey office building in the midst of a cluster of warehouses and praying they would reach that not so distant goal before everything fell apart.

"Holy Etro…" Sazh grumbled to himself, shading his eyes as he shook his head. He halted them both by their arms, turned to Lightning and gestured at Hope. "Just tell the boy already!"

"Tell me what?" Hope's eyes zeroed in on hers, the weight of his question pressing into her skull. They were a mere stone's throw away from the destination, but it might as well have been miles off. Time was up.

_He's going to hate me. He'll think I'm an overbearing control freak and go stay with his parents._

_And maybe not come back. Maybe I'll only ever see him here, glaring at me._

_But he_ will _be safe._

Lightning cleared her throat, adopting an unaffected stance with her arms loosely crossed. "I'm here for one thing. To stand guard over you."

"W-what?" Hope stammered. His eyes could not have grown wider. "You mean, just for the walk over here?"

She shook her head. "For the duration of this project. Wherever you go, I go."

"But you can't! You-you still have…" Hope tripped over his words, briefly looking to Sazh for an explanation before searching her face again. "You're supposed to go back to the border patrol, not waste your time on _me_." He brought his hands to his chest, reiterating emphatically, "I can look after myself. I can keep a low profile, or at least stick with Sazh—"

"Sazh is running the project," Lightning cut in. "He can't guarantee your safety."

Hope stuck his arms stiffly to his sides, indignation flaring to life in his eyes. "We've _had_ this discussion. No one can do that indefinitely."

"Maybe not," she ground out, her own eyes flashing. "But I'm the best damn option."

Hope took a step closer, reaching out but stopping short of her arm. His expression flickered back and forth between frustration and supplication. He dragged his fingers through his hair once, letting it all go in a breath.

"Light, you've got to understand," he insisted, choking off the emotion from his slow, careful words. "You're going to attract attention. It's asking for trouble."

"Trouble, huh?" Lightning repeated, utterly unmoved. She unsheathed her sword with a flourish, slashed the air in a graceful arc and stabbed the tip into the dirt. "Let it find me, then. We already know it's out there. This just saves me the effort of hunting it down."

Hope's mouth fell open, but the words would not come. His anger resurfaced with his wits a moment later.

"Why do you _have_ to be so-so— Ugh! _Goddess_ , I give up," Hope growled, turning swiftly on his heel and stalking the short distance remaining to the building. A couple of personnel on-site were already poking their heads out the front door, muttering to each other in obvious concern about the quarrel outside.

Sazh shifted his weight onto one leg and clucked in disapproval. "Heh, this project's off to a fine start." He smirked at Lightning. "You sure it's worth the drama?"

She harrumphed and wiped the dirt from the tip of her Ultima Weapon on her pant leg.

"Do you think anyone will dare lay a finger on Hope without losing the whole hand?"

After a wide-eyed moment of surprise, Sazh laughed heartily. "Well, when you put it like that, hell no!"

"Then yes," Lightning surmised, sheathing her sword and striking out after Hope. "It's worth it."

* * *

By the end of her second week playing bodyguard, Lightning was beginning to question her resolve. No one had presented a threat to Hope, very likely because of her presence, but she could not revel in her success. She couldn't even enjoy the temperate weather outside. Winter had descended on her household in the midst of a blossoming springtime.

And she was getting hypothermia from her partner's cold shoulder.

Hope had made it his business to be _professionally_ livid since that first day on the project site. When he wasn't frigidly on task with transit system planning, he was a wall of ice at home. He kept himself on a strict routine of avoidance, going so far as to lock himself out of her room at bedtime, even though he usually ended up sleeping against her door and thrashing around half the night.

It was almost worse that Hope hadn't tried running off to stay with his parents. Instead, he remained close but untouchable. Lightning honestly missed his midnight interruptions and warm smiles. She missed cinnamon in her oatmeal. She even found herself missing his occasional white-hot anger, reminiscent of the young and vengeful Hope she'd first met, ages ago. At least that had indicated some emotion.

In short, the situation was nigh unbearable. Lightning spent most of her time in Hope's presence – which was most of her time, period – fighting irrational urges to get a rise out of him. She knew better, after all.

Unfortunately, as much as she hated to admit it, Hope's detachment did have one practical benefit. None of the engineers, surveyors, or other specialists on the project team questioned if she was anything more to Hope than his dangerous shadow.

But that very fact needled her. It grew over the passing days and buried itself in her side, an invisible thorn. She wanted to yank it free and address the problem, preferably when they were alone, but every attempt to bring up her decision or his behavior elicited the same cold response.

" _You're free to do what you want, and I'll do the same. I don't want to discuss it."_

There was never a good rebuttal.

And so a third week dragged on, as the stifled feelings in Lightning's chest expanded to the bursting point.

Until Friday afternoon took a strange and opportunistic turn.

Lightning was pacing around outside the main conference room as usual, intermittently eavesdropping on the project discussion but remaining inconspicuous. She could follow most of their topics – suggestions for generators or fuel sources, plans for the most efficient route to lay track, etcetera.

Hope's voice always stood out to her, though he still remained eerily impassive. It made him sound older, which was probably his goal, but she just thought it sounded wrong. Either way, she got bored after lunchtime like always and started cleaning her sword, waiting for a dismissal cue.

That cue came in the form of Hope slipping out the side door. He rushed by Lightning, his head down and his hands stuffed into his pockets.

_Well, that can't be good._

She immediately sheathed the sword and followed him down, but he turned into the restroom before she could stop him.

"Hey!" one of the surveyors called out, waving a thick folder in the air as he jogged up behind Lightning. "Hey, Savior lady, did you catch where the kid went?"

_Savior lady? That one's new._

His level of informality surprised her. "If by 'kid' you mean Hope, he's in there." She jerked her thumb at the bathroom door and took up a new perch against the wall. "Guess you'll have to wait."

"Nah," he scoffed, giving her a goofy smile that she instantly wanted to slap off. He stepped closer, and she crossed her arms defensively, but he just offered up the collection of papers. "If it's all the same, can I leave this with you?"

Lightning took the folder and continued to eye him suspiciously. "What is this for?"

He laughed, as if she'd missed the punch line of an obvious joke. "Kid's got homework, y'know," he said, winking at her. "Maybe you can help him out."

"I'll pass this on, but I don't know much about the project, myself."

"I'm sure he can get you up to speed," the man said, and he turned on his heel and strolled off, whistling to himself.

Curiosity got the better of her. Lightning cracked open the folder and flipped through several pages of notes and diagrams, trying to discern their purpose. The overlapping webs of lines and small handwriting made it seem terribly complicated.

_What does he even see in this mess—?_

A slight throat-clearing to her left made her jump.

Hope extended his hand, his eyes dully reading her. "May I have that?"

"I'll think about it," she said off-handedly, tucking the folder under her arm as she turned to walk away, every step building a wave of tension behind her. She smirked to herself but didn't look back.

"You can have it if you explain what this homework business is about."

"It isn't homework," Hope refuted. He huffed quietly and followed her at a modest distance, both of them exiting the building. "If you don't hand it over now, I'll just take it later."

Lightning shrugged. "Not if it's under my pillow, lockmaster."

" _Light_ … You shouldn't joke around out here. Especially since Sazh isn't with us." His control was slipping, his voice strained like an over-tightened string. Much more and she knew he would snap.

God forgive her, Lightning wanted him to snap.

"Well, whoever-it-was asked me to help you, so I should probably spend some time studying the material myself," she suggested. "Then you can have it. If you ask nicely."

Hope clenched his teeth together. "I don't need _help_. That isn't how this works."

Stopping abruptly, Lightning spun to face him. Frustration ballooned in her chest again.

"That's _exactly_ how this works," she ground out. She bopped his forehead with the folder, heedless of how ridiculous the gesture must've looked with his height advantage. "Which is why it isn't working, right now. You haven't just refused to accept my help – you've gone out of your way to punish me for it."

"Punish you?" Hope stared back at her, his eyes widening. "I thought you didn't… you know, give a damn if I decided to run off and be a doorstop for my parents. As you put it Tuesday."

Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, grumbling a quiet "Nevermind" before she struck out for the town center. She heard the hustle of Hope's footsteps as he matched her rapid pace.

His fingertips grazed the back of her arm. "Light, I—"

"Save it," she demanded between her teeth, already counting the number of black armbands in view and feeling the intensity of at least a dozen gazes.

Hope nodded, trying to walk easy at her side. "Can I at least see the folder for now, so I have something to occupy myself with?"

"On one condition," Lightning said.

"What's that?"

"Tomorrow, I want cinnamon in the oatmeal," she demanded, utterly straight-faced. "You've made your dissatisfaction with me clear enough."

Against everything Lightning thought possible, and probably against good sense, Hope laughed out loud. It was the most beautiful sound she'd heard in days, but at the same time she could've sworn it drew twice as many pairs of eyes to their position. The crackle of contempt in the air raised the hairs on her neck.

Hope seemed to think better of the outburst and covered his mouth. He exposed half of his smile to her as he murmured in an aside, "Oh yes, nothing says retribution like bland oatmeal. But if I'd really wanted to spite you, I would've skipped the honey."

Lightning scoffed at the insinuation. "You knew damn well what you were doing. I'm not the one with a sweet tooth."

"Have you even checked the pantry, lately?" Hope challenged. "Maybe we ran out of cinnamon."

"Did we?"

"No."

"Then why the hell would you suggest that?" Lightning hissed, her next step becoming a petulant stomp before she corrected herself.

Hope's smile took on a wicked little quirk. "To ruffle you – and it was worth it. But seriously, I lent the cinnamon to Serah a while ago. Baby Claire's been on a cinnamon oatmeal kick, herself."

Lightning let out a long, slow breath through her nose, mildly glaring at the troublemaker in her periphery. At length, she handed the folder over to him.

"Just get it back from Serah, and we're even."

"Consider it done," he promised. "Oh, and I meant to ask—"

Hope cut off suddenly and stopped. His eyes were fixed on a point just across the town square, between one of the distribution center windows and a nearby building.

"What is it?" Lightning whispered, trying to follow his line of sight.

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought so. Those guys are hassling my mom."

As soon as Lightning identified his mother's position, she saw them, too – the hoods and the bands on their arms were unmistakable.

And in the moment her eyes left Hope, he took off across the square.

Lightning made a grab for his shirt and missed. She jogged after him, cursing and dodging the slower-moving bodies all around her. Finally, she stumbled onto the scene just as Hope got his mother's attention with an excited wave.

"Hey, Mom!" he called out, and in the next instant he'd latched onto her in a hug.

Nora seemed to be in shock. She looked over Hope's shoulder at the trio of hooded cultists, then down to her sack of rations on the ground, and finally to Lightning.

The instigators had also noticed Lightning. Their eyes hit the cobblestones as they shrank back toward the shadows of a nearby alley. She glared after them for a few seconds, but she soon turned to the situation at hand and started gathering the supplies that had spilled everywhere.

"I-I… Hope," Nora said shakily. She got a tight grip on the back of his shirt, releasing him after a long moment to face him. She feigned straightening his collar and tried a weak smile. "I must've dropped my things. Are you heading home?"

"Yeah," he replied, holding up the folder. "And I've got homework. Talk about killing your weekend."

_That's right, Hope. Change the subject and we'll get out of here._

Nora laughed nervously, seeming to come back to the scene around her.

"Oh, Miss Farron, you didn't have to do that," she said in a rush. "I can take those…"

Lightning shook her head, straightening up with the sack of rations in her arms. "I've got it. We'll walk you home, if that's alright." She smiled a bit, hoping that would put her more at ease. "And just call me Lightning."

Still a bit dazed, Nora nodded as Hope hooked her arm with his.

"C'mon, Mom. I'd love to help you with dinner!"

"Must be my lucky day." His mother bounced back quickly, smiling and moving along with him as if nothing had happened. Lightning trailed behind them, trying not to intrude on their familial space. She kept a vigilant eye out for any more hoods or black armbands, but thankfully none approached.

_I don't know if this day could get any more complicated._

* * *

Lightning secretly dreaded an invitation into the Estheim household. She had only avoided it in previous months by letting their friends take turns accompanying Hope for his once-per-weekend dinner visits, so they could at least ensure his safe arrival and departure.

But this time, she was stuck. It made sense to stay, logistically speaking. That just didn't do anything for her nerves. The three of them had merely stepped in the door when the collective mass of her insecure thoughts crept out of the shadows in her mind.

It wasn't that Hope's parents were unfamiliar. Bartholomew remembered her from their time as l'Cie on Cocoon, and she had crossed paths with both him and Nora on several occasions since the settlement's establishment.

Very brief occasions, but sufficient to impress upon her their continued disapproval of Hope's rebelliousness – and her role in it.

_At least his father got a half-decent first impression of me. It could've been worse._

Lightning couldn't say the same for Hope's mother. Nothing screamed "loathe my very existence" quite like being the woman her precious underage son chose to live with.

All things considered, she thought Nora took it in stride. Only an insubstantial, inexplicable charge in the air between them whenever they met betrayed the conflict.

"You look a little tired, honey," Nora remarked, tilting Hope's face down to her level. "Have you been sleeping any better?"

"Of course," he replied, pecking her cheek and ducking out of her inspection zone. "I've just got this project that's kind of burning me out. Don't worry about it."

_Say what you want – the boy can act._

Lightning quickly scanned the living room for cabinets or kitchen access to deposit the rations – and possibly escape the mothering zone – but the townhouse floor plan was unfamiliar. She felt zero sense of entitlement to bumble around in their home, either. Shuffling her feet awkwardly in her place beside the entry, she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, but where should I take—?"

"I'll take that," Hope jumped in, snatching the sack from her arms. He flashed a grin and disappeared around a corner into what she assumed was the kitchen, leaving her alone with Nora. She really didn't know where to start.

Lightning rubbed at her arm and took a deep breath. "Would you… like me to leave? I'd hate to intrude."

"Don't be silly," Nora said. She smiled and gestured toward the seating area, then led the way in, continuing the conversation as she went. "Those hooded people… I know they left because of you. I think dinner is the least I can offer."

"Don't mention it. I wish we'd gotten there sooner," Lightning replied. She unstrapped her scabbard and rested her weapon in the corner near the door. She followed Nora to the couch and perched on the very edge, a number of questions suddenly popping to the forefront of her mind.

Nora busied herself with relocating several throw pillows, asking casually, "Would you like some tea?"

"I-If you're having it, sure," Lightning stammered. She still felt a gut-twisting urge to bolt outside, but the questions remained. They stirred around inside her while Hope's mother left for the kitchen, brewing to the brim by the time she returned.

"Mrs. Estheim, if you don't mind my asking," Lightning began uncertainly, "Did those people out there threaten you?"

"No, they just startled me," Nora said, waving off the thought. "And they seemed more interested in asking questions, anyway. I wasn't exactly inclined to be helpful." She finally stopped straightening things and sat gracefully on the other end of the couch.

"Lightning, did you recognize who they were? I don't understand why they wanted to know so much about my son."

Lightning felt her throat constrict. She clasped her hands together on her lap, unable to lift her eyes.

_Is there any good way to explain this?_

"Mrs. Estheim, I—"

"It's just Nora. No need to be formal."

"Oh." Lightning crossed her legs and started again. "Nora, this is going to sound a little strange, but I'll try to be clear. Those people belong to a cult that's calling itself the New Order of Salvation."

Nora nodded slowly. "Hm, I've heard that name in the market. They're the ones who built the statue south of town. They worship a certain… goddess? No. They call her the Savior. The one who spared our souls, it seems." She studied Lightning for a long moment and tilted her head, reaching out a slender hand to tuck several jagged pieces of hair out of Lightning's face.

"Its resemblance to you is masterful. After what my husband told me about your l'Cie involvement, I wasn't surprised you'd been chosen again."

"So you know I… I _was_ the Savior," Lightning stammered. "But I didn't found the New Order. They've set me up as some kind of idol."

"Well then, it's no wonder those cultists cowered in fear," Nora remarked, a hint of mischief in her smile. It faded when she reiterated, "I just don't see why they would be interested in Hope."

_This is going downhill fast._

Lightning chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. "How much do you know about Hope's past, exactly?" she hazarded.

"As much as I need to know," Nora replied. "He's my son, of course. Bartholomew explained that time was unnaturally stalled for a few centuries, so I know he has a different mentality than the typical teenager. Everyone who lived through the end experienced the same thing, though."

"Yes, that's basically true." Lightning tried to get a read on Nora, hoping to ascertain whether she could handle the paradigm-shifting, unabridged version of the truth. Unfortunately, Hope's transparency was not a trait he shared with his mother, and Lightning came up at a loss.

The woman held up a frightening standard of poise.

"You still haven't answered my question," she said calmly.

Lightning gripped the top of her pant legs, bracing herself. "Hope was… a special case. Unfortunately, this cult thinks he was the wrong kind of special. Think 'l'Cie' special."

Clear alarm broke through Nora's composed exterior. Her wide eyes were eerily similar to Hope's when she asked, "Are you saying they want to purge him?"

"I'm not sure about that," Lightning replied, "but they definitely don't mean well. We've all been keeping an eye on him, wherever he goes. That's actually why I was with him today. I never wanted any crazy cult followers – I just feel responsible if they hurt anyone."

She stared down at her hands again. "Especially if it's Hope."

As if he'd heard his name, Hope popped his head out of the kitchen doorway and called, "Tea's done! Both of you want milk and sugar?"

"No sugar, thanks," Lightning managed. Even from several meters off, she could tell he rolled his eyes before he disappeared again.

"And no milk for me, dear," Nora called back in a higher pitch. "Do you need a hand?"

"Nope, I've got it."

"Helping him is a cardinal sin, you know," Lightning muttered, propping her chin in her hands.

Nora laughed softly as she stood from her seat. She drifted off toward the kitchen, heedless of Hope's words.

"Then I guess we're both guilty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long and fun as the last one, but obviously too much of a good thing would be too much to bear. The next chapter has a smattering of fluff to make up for it ;-)


	6. Shame

Lightning could hardly believe that she'd survived dinner. But there she was, unscathed, walking home in the fading twilight with Hope at her side.

He hadn't said much, probably reflecting on everything that had just transpired, and for some reason that bothered her.

"I can't believe you weaseled me into that," Lightning remarked, elbowing his arm. "Even if your mother didn't grill me."

"Grilling isn't her style." Hope smiled at his own secret thoughts for a few moments, but he finally shifted his paperwork burden and bumped her arm back.

"Besides, I think you're winning her over."

"Modern-day miracle," Lightning muttered. His words gave her a twinge of satisfaction – not that she was about to admit it.

She wasn't about to admit anything too personal outside the safety of their home. If her so-called followers were getting bold enough to interrogate Hope's mother, they were after something.

Looking back, Lightning realized that her awareness had been clouded. Since she and Hope had cleared the air, she could swear she sensed other presences nearby, hiding in the shadows. Watching. Tracking his every move.

"You know, we should head over to the fire-pit," she suggested.

Hope side-eyed her with suspicion. "Why? We just ate…"

"I haven't seen _my_ family, today."

"Okay. If you really want to." He didn't sound convinced.

They still went forward with the plan. As they approached the welcoming warmth of the fire, friends, and food, Lightning took a deep breath. Hope visibly relaxed as well, his free hand in his pocket as he strode ahead of her. Relief washed over her at the sight.

Annoyance soon trumped that relief. Snow popped up beside her and threw an arm around her shoulders, effectively squashing her moment of peace.

"Hey, look who decided to show up!" he teased. "Kinda late, aren't we, Sis?"

"We're not late," she protested, pushing his arm away. She gestured at Hope, who had already escaped to take a seat on one of the logs. "Hope detoured to visit his parents."

"Oh yeah? And what'd you do, stand guard outside?" Snow smirked and prodded her shoulder, holding his hand beside his mouth as if to relay a secret. "They probably think you're a stalker."

Her hand tightened into a fist.

Fortunately, Serah chose that moment to float between them with the baby. She truly had a knack with potential altercations.

"Don't _ever_ call my sister a stalker," Serah chided, slapping Snow's arm, and he cowered back like a kicked puppy. She turned to Lightning and beamed. "It's good to see you, Sis! But you'd better get some gumbo before it's gone."

"No, thanks. I already ate," Lightning admitted. She wished she hadn't expounded, though, with the way Snow whistled and Serah's eyes grew large and shiny. Never once diverting that unnerving gaze, her sister handed baby Claire off to Snow. She shooed her husband away and grabbed onto Lightning's hands.

"Wow," she whispered in awe. "How did it go?"

"What, dinner? Everyone ate and talked. Not a big deal."

"Oh, it's a big deal." Serah dragged her off to an empty log-seat on the opposite side of the fire. Distantly, Lightning noticed that Fang and Vanille were pestering Hope, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

_Maybe we should've skipped the fire-pit, after all…_

"Hey!" Serah whined, shaking her arm. "Don't you dare ignore me. I want details."

Lightning blew out a slow breath and stared at the cooking pot on the fire. "Like I said, it's nothing worth mentioning. We weren't even planning on it. We just ran into Hope's mom in town, she needed some help with her stuff, and Hope offered to make dinner. That's seriously all."

"Aha," Serah said slyly, bringing her hand to her chin. "So it was _his_ idea. Smarty-pants."

Lightning sat up straight. "No, it wasn't—" She cut off, her finger frozen in mid-air as her brow furrowed.

_Actually, it kind of was._ I _just offered to walk Nora home._

Serah giggled. "Admit it. He totally got you."

"He just wanted to help his mom," Lightning muttered. "It's still not a big deal."

"Well, I still want to know about the dinner," Serah insisted, a small pout firmly in place.

Lightning shrugged. "Why? Hope cooks often enough. We all know he's decent at it. He must've honed his skills over centuries of cooking for himself. You know, while Snow was pigging out at those nightly banquets in Yusnaan."

"Touché, but you know that isn't what I meant," Serah deadpanned. "I'm well aware that you avoid Hope's parents like the plague… for pretty good reason. But you just _had dinner with them_." She made an explosive motion with her hands beside her head. "How could I not be curious?"

"Look, they didn't guilt-trip or interrogate us, if that's what you're wondering," Lightning replied, fighting a blush. "I told you it went fine. They were very polite."

Serah hummed to herself. "You mean like friendly polite or you-stole-our-son-but-we're-better-than-you polite?"

"Ugh, _Serah_ …" Lightning ran a hand over her face. "Just normal polite. And I didn't _steal_ Hope."

"Hey, I know that," Serah replied, patting her shoulder. "I was just expressing their perspective."

"Please don't. I got the point." Lightning considered fleeing the scene altogether – Hope was safe enough, anyway. But as the thought crossed her mind and she started to stand, Serah hopped to her feet as well.

Her ears were perked toward a new crisis.

"You might wanna rescue Hope," Serah said, pointing across to where he sat. Vanille had tackled him in a side-hug, trapping him in place, and Fang stood poised to stuff a spoonful of gumbo in his mouth.

Serah gave her sister a little shove and waved her on. As Lightning stalked over, she quickly assessed the situation.

"C'mon, kid," Fang drawled, inching the spoon closer. "Ya can't just skip out on our traditional Oerban dinner night and not even try the stuff. We've slaved over this recipe all week!"

Hope squirmed but couldn't get free. "No hard feelings," he tried to explain, dodging the spoon. "I'm sure it's the best yet. I'm just full..."

Lightning frowned in disapproval. Oerban fare was notoriously spicy – too spicy for Hope, and he never did have the heart to tell their friends. Or he just hadn't suffered a painful enough bout of heartburn.

"Guys, give it a rest," Lightning ordered. She reached out and flicked Fang on the shoulder. "I'll try it instead."

"Heh, fine by me." Fang tossed her hair, straightened up, and redirected the spoon at Lightning's face. "Open up that pretty mouth."

Lightning rolled her eyes, ignoring the tingle of embarrassment as she complied. She clamped down on the spoon, and sure enough, the spices made her eyes water. The gumbo was delicious, though – as much of it as she could taste through the initial kick.

_Phew. Hope would've been sick half the night._

"Good flavor," she assessed, nodding at Vanille. "Did you make dessert this time, too?"

The girl bounced excitedly, finally freeing Hope to take a deep breath. She clasped her hands together.

"Of course! It's the loveliest, most chocolaty pudding in the history of ever!"

Lightning directed a wry grin at Hope. "Think you could take one for the team?"

"Uh, sure," he agreed, cracking a smile. "Bring it on, I guess."

Vanille was up and skipping off to the pudding pot before he'd even finished speaking. She skipped right back with a little bowl and spoon.

Hope rubbed nervously at his neck. "Um, can I just feed myself, please?"

"Nope! Takes away from the traditional experience," Vanille piped up.

"So you shoved a spoon in everyone's face tonight?" Lightning queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep! Well, just for the first bite, and Fang helped, too." She readied the spoon. "Now say 'ah.'"

"Ahh—mph." Hope held the bite in his mouth for a few seconds before actually swallowing it, his eyes going wide with wonder. The expression of pure bliss on his face suggested a spiritual experience.

_What is_ in _that pudding?_

Lightning could not pin down a reason, but the effect it had on Hope reduced her insides to mush. It also made her want to try the stuff for herself.

"Let me see that," she said, attempting to take the bowl from Vanille.

"Ah-ah." Vanille waved a corrective finger. "Rules are rules. I'll give you a bite, if you're nice about it." She tapped the spoon on the bowl, a grin suddenly spreading over her face.

"Or Hope can, if you'd prefer."

Lightning glared down at her, and Hope's mouth fell open. He collected himself and stammered, "You know, I-I don't think that's—"

"Traditional?" Fang interjected. She smirked and shrugged. "Sure it is. The only real rule is the chef makes the rules."

"Right! And I've decided to pass the torch to Hope." Vanille shoved the bowl and spoon into his hands, still grinning like a fiend as she bounced up from her seat. "Try not to make a mess."

She had the audacity to wink.

"'Nille, you are one unholy saint," Fang jibed, laughing deviously before she stole a kiss.

Hope looked terribly flushed. He met Lightning's eyes for half a second but quickly dropped his gaze to the bowl. "Do you… still want to try it?"

"Sure," she said, working to play it casual. She sat next to him on the log and crossed her arms. "Not that I expect to reach enlightenment."

That earned a chuckle from Hope, but his hand was jittery when he scooped a dollop of the pudding and lifted it. "Alright, then…"

"Here." Lightning steadied his hand with hers and captured the bite.

Her taste buds sang when her tongue hit the pudding. It was the creamiest, most intense chocolate-flavored sensation she'd ever experienced. She really hoped her eyes had not in fact rolled back in her head, but it felt like they had.

_Wow. I've got to find out how Vanille made this._

"Light?" Hope's voice cut through the euphoria, and she snapped her eyes open. "You can, uh, let go now."

"Mmhm." She slipped the spoon from his hand and sat back, sucking off the remaining residue.

"Ooh, I think Sunshine here likes your magical pudding a little too much," Fang teased, tugging one of Vanille's pigtails. "Shoulda made it sweeter, sweetheart."

" _You_ said it was liquid perfection!" Vanille whined, swatting her back, and they spiraled off into their own little chase match.

Briefly staring at the bowl in Hope's hands, Lightning cleared her throat. "Well, that really was… enlightening."

"There's got to be a secret ingredient," Hope posited. He ran his finger along the rim of the bowl as he thought, the motion hypnotic.

Lightning put a stop to that with a stroke of pure meanness. She dug the spoon into the pudding, taking advantage of Hope's surprised gasp to give him another taste. She snorted at his glare, which lasted all of a half-second before the chocolate kicked in. She could've sworn his pupils dilated.

"So what's the secret?" Lightning asked. "Vanille's stash of cactuar juice, maybe? Fang swears it exists."

"Mm, I doubt that." Hope laughed and wrested the spoon from her again. "It's your turn, Light," he teased, returning the favor much more confidently than before.

"Too bad this is the last of it." A little bit smeared on the edge of her mouth, and he swiped it away with his thumb.

That touch flipped an invisible switch. For an agonizing stretch of seconds, Lightning felt her body go into sensory overload. Her lips mapped the texture of his thumbprint, the blood in her cheek boiled under his fingertips, and the side of her leg burned against his knee.

She couldn't catch her breath. Her heart was racing.

_There had better_ not _be cactuar juice in this pudding._

"Any ideas, Light?" He was right _there_. She couldn't escape those eyes, but she wanted to do something about that smile.

_I must be drugged._

Lightning shook her head.

"That's okay," Hope chimed. He licked the chocolate from his thumb. "I'll figure it out."

Getting to his feet, he added as an afterthought, "Oh, that reminds me – I need to get our cinnamon back."

The onslaught subsided as quickly as it began. Once Hope left to return the implements to Vanille, Lightning held her head, gradually pulling herself together. Her mind reeled, her nerves were shot, and the chocolate stuck stubbornly to her tongue.

She was still half-convinced that the pudding was laced.

The other half noted that Hope was perfectly fine.

* * *

Hope didn't lock himself out, that night.

And that was good. It was back to normal. The way it should be. He wouldn't have some crazy nightmare and end up on the floor outside.

He wouldn't feel alone.

He'd be safe.

A dozen such rational thoughts circled around Lightning's head like sheep she should've been counting. But one thought ran counter to the rest – a wolf among the flock. It refused to be ignored, and it threatened to devour all of her right notions with a single wrong one.

She wanted Hope closer.

As it stood, her tired eyes were burning into the doorknob. Lightning had no idea how late he would end up coming in, and she suspected that sleep would elude her until he did.

_You know, there's a very simple solution to this problem,_ the errant part of her brain reasoned, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lumina's. _Just ask him to sleep in here. He does it anyway…_

Lightning shook her head and flopped over, facing the window. _No! There are lines I shouldn't cross._

_Who drew them, Hope? His parents? Or was it you? You've got an excellent tightrope act, walking all these lines. So much for not giving a damn what other people think._

_You don't even give a damn what_ you _think, yourself._

A timid knock at the door gave her a jolt, straight out of her thoughts. She shot upright and clenched the edge of her comforter.

"Yes?"

"Light? Can I come in?" Hope asked, his muffled voice uncertain.

Lightning ran a hand up into her tangled hair and sighed. "Sure. You didn't have to knock. What's going on?"

Carefully, he cracked the door open and stepped inside, holding a small lamp. It cast the worry lines on his face in stark relief.

"Sorry to bother you, and maybe it's just my imagination…"

"What is?" she asked sharply. An entirely different list of concerns flashed through her mind.

Hope slid the lamp onto the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. "I thought I heard something in the bush at the window. It gave me a bad feeling… Like someone was watching me, from there."

Lightning shoved the covers aside and went straight for her gear. She was taking no chances.

"Stay in here," she ordered, throwing everything on over her shorts and tank top. She grabbed her Ultima Weapon. "Put out the lamp and lock the door."

Hope nodded once and got up. He executed her orders, dug her knife out of the top drawer and ducked down in the shadows of her closet. Lightning climbed over the bed to the window and peeked through the curtains. No one seemed to be there, at least. As silently as possible, she pried the screen loose and lowered it to the ground.

The area was faintly illuminated under the crescent moon. The only sound was a lone cricket's chirp, and even that fell silent when her boots softly padded over the dirt. Lightning went the long way, slinking around the back of the house and up the west side. She crouched at the northwest corner and peered around the edge.

The bush in question was more like a squat tree, thick with glossy leaves and white blossoms – more than enough coverage for an intruder. It was near the window, but a meter-wide gap between the foliage and the wall would partially expose anyone trying to spy inside too closely.

Lightning had to make a call. She could either wait for the person or thing to show itself, or she could flush it out. She picked up a small stone from the ground, testing its weight as she thought.

She didn't think long.

_Tch, I don't have all night._

_And I really want to hit this creep with a rock._

Lightning took aim at a center point on the bush and hurled the stone. It thudded on contact, and a betraying hiss of pain followed closely behind.

Lightning drew her sword, striding into the moonlight. She slashed shallowly across the bush's outer leaves.

"Show yourself," she demanded. " _Now_."

After a breath of hesitation, a small, shadowy figure crawled out of the lowest branches. A girl, by her long hair that dragged in the dirt. She remained on her hands and knees, obscured by a hood with her face down.

Lightning pushed back the hood with the tip of her sword. "Alright, start talking. What are you doing at my house, in the middle of the night?"

"I-I was ordered to-to keep watch over you, Savior," the girl stammered, shaking like a leaf. "F-for your protection."

"Do I look like I need protection?" Lightning snapped. The girl visibly flinched, and she felt a pang of guilt. She took a knee in front of the would-be spy, resting her sword against her leg.

"Listen, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want some answers."

Still not moving an inch, the girl said, "I-I am your humble servant, Savior."

_Ugh, why do they have to be so dramatic?_

"Okay, then. First, I want to know who ordered you to spy on my house."

"Lord Raines, of course," she replied, actually sounding confused. "He speaks the Savior's will. He once spoke for the dead, which you saved, and he established the Order in your honor."

"Cid Raines?" Lightning asked. It couldn't have been anyone else. As far as she knew, only one man with the last name Raines had spoken for the dead. He had warned her of the Soul Song's destructive power, and of Vanille's unique ability to guide souls in the Chaos to the new world.

"I didn't know that was his first name," the girl nearly whispered.

"Tch, I didn't know he could read my mind, either," Lightning quipped. She no longer deemed the little cultist a threat. She sheathed her sword, grabbed the girl by the arms and hauled her to her feet.

"Now, I've got a bigger question," Lightning said, lifting the girl's chin. Her eyes darted all over the place, but ultimately she fixed them forward. It was hard to say if she was awestruck or terrified. She continued to tremble, her lower lip quivering, but she wouldn't dare move.

"Just tell me this. What were you trying to protect me from?"

"Th-that, that…" she could hardly form the words. Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut. "That _boy_."

"You think I need protection from Hope?" Lightning deadpanned. She could hardly believe her ears. "You've obviously never met him."

The girl shook her head furiously. "He isn't what you think, Savior. He may look like the boy you knew, but he's been corrupted by Bhunivelze."

Lightning cursed under her breath, forcing her voice down as she retorted, "That's impossible. Does the New Order doubt that their Savior killed Bhunivelze?"

"N-no!" the girl stammered. She dropped to her knees again. "You cut him down and cast his corpse into the Unseen Realm. We are forever grateful."

"Then explain to me how a dead god has _any_ power to be corrupting _anyone_."

"I-it is… the nature of what happened, before," the girl said tremulously. But her voice took on an eerie, almost monotone quality when she continued, as if she was reciting a sacred text. "As you said yourself, Bhunivelze possessed the boy you call Hope. He subjugated his mind and body, but he also tainted his soul, unknowingly, because the creator god could not see souls. And just as Etro demanded a replacement in the realm of the dead, Bhunivelze demands a replacement in the realm of the living."

A chill snaked up Lightning's spine, hearing the echo of Bhunivelze's words and recalling that last battle. He'd certainly admitted it himself – the human soul was his blind spot. He narrowly missed obliterating Hope's soul, which had lingered and infected the mind of a god who knew no emotion.

As for Etro, Lightning did have to admit that she got her replacement in the seeress Yeul. The girl she'd cursed with her divine sight.

Lightning rubbed at her temple, struggling to rationally break it down. "Look, even if I bought your theory, why would it be a problem? Yeul isn't a carbon copy of Etro, any more than Hope is like Bhunivelze."

"Yeul shares the essence of Etro – she is merciful and self-sacrificing." The cultist paused to press her palms together, dipping her head reverentially. "But Bhunivelze was a perfectionist by nature. His essence was intellectual, calculating… ultimately cruel," she explained, shuddering in place again. "He chose that boy for a reason. This is why we fear for you, Savior."

"Well, you're wasting your time," Lightning said. "I'm not going to stand for any more meddling from the New Order. Hope isn't a threat. You can tell _Lord_ Raines that I will hold him personally responsible if anyone harms a hair on Hope's head. And if I find out that he still hasn't gotten the message, I will deliver it with my sword. Understood?"

Standing shakily to her feet, the girl backed away and bowed at the waist. "I-I will tell him, Savior. But please… watch your back, for your own sake." She turned and ran off into the night, vanishing from view when she rounded a copse of trees.

_That was… disturbing._ Lightning shuddered again, dragging her feet to the front door. It was a little shocking to know that Cid was alive – that he'd been hiding behind her own cult for over a year and spreading such twisted beliefs.

Worse than that, he should have known better. He experienced firsthand what it was to become a puppet. He'd fought them as a Cocoon l'Cie, crystallized, and was summoned from stasis to do the fal'Cie's bidding once again.

He had struggled for his own humanity. And in the end, in death, he'd won. This existence was his second chance at life.

_Then why can't he see that Hope was just a victim? I saved him._

_I set him free._

_Didn't I?_

Lightning went back to the bedroom door, trying the knob only to find it still locked.

"Hey, Hope? Coast is clear. Can you let me in?"

"Oh, sorry!" She heard his scuffling steps, and the knob clicked.

He opened the door, looking sheepish as he slipped her knife back onto the dresser. "So when you say 'clear'… Do you mean nothing was there, or you took care of it?"

"I took care of it. For now." Lightning gently moved him aside and headed for the closet.

"For now?" Hope asked again. "What exactly was out there?"

She unstrapped the Ultima Weapon's sheath, sighing tiredly. "Just what I suspected. A little spy from our favorite cult." Motioning toward the window, she added, "Could you replace the screen, please?"

"I already did." Hope climbed onto the mattress, snatched a pillow and waited at the end of the bed in silence. He was still watching the moon when she came back, his expression unreadable.

_Is he still afraid?_

Lightning burrowed down under her comforter, deliberating with herself.

"Listen, you shouldn't keep scrunching yourself down at the end of the bed," she said at length. "It's bad for your back. I don't care if you want to stretch out."

"Hmph, I'm touched," Hope said, laughing dryly. He unfolded his limbs, tossed the pillow beside hers and face-planted with a happy sigh. His smile was plain as day when he turned toward her.

"If I can get away with this, you really must've missed me."

"Or pitied you," Lightning muttered. She rolled over to face the dresser and pulled the comforter up to her chin.

_Maybe this was a bad call._

"Something's bothering you," he said. His hand found her arm, radiating heat through the thin layers of cover. "Won't you tell me?"

Lightning took a breath. "It's nothing. I'm just tired of hearing lies about you from the New Order. They had the gall to tell me I should watch my back."

"Ha. I thought that was my job," Hope scoffed. He moved his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. "And at the moment, I'm taking it very seriously. Nothing will get to your back without going through me." She heard the smile in his voice. "I swear it."

His joking chipped away at her doubts, and Lightning snorted.

"Fine. Go to sleep, smart-ass."

"I'm starting to think you mean that as a compliment," Hope teased.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm generally accepted as smart," he explained, "And I have it on pretty good authority that my ass isn't half bad."

Lightning thought her face might catch fire. She somehow managed to ask, " _What_ good authority?"

She could tell that Hope was trying very hard not to laugh. "The authority of cumulative evidence. Walk around in fitted pants for a few centuries, and you get a lot of stares. Remarks, even."

"Well, lucky for us, bards don't sing songs about your ass," Lightning countered.

Hope cleared his throat. "No. But they do sing about your... um, everything, actually."

"What?" Lightning sat up abruptly, her eyes narrowed at him in the dark. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I can, and I am. There's at least one bard on the west side who sings about you. I'll admit he's very talented," Hope reiterated. He propped himself up on his elbows, studying her closely. Lingering on her face. "And very accurate."

Lightning held her breath. She was caught in his gaze, floundering for words in the tangled mess of her thoughts. It took an immense effort to blink away.

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"Like what, the truth?" Hope sat up to her level. He leaned one shoulder against the headboard, half-smiling at her, and reached out to turn her face. "You shouldn't just be honored with statues and songs. And you shouldn't be worshipped from afar like a goddess. You're a woman, and you're right here."

Her heart threatened to escape her chest. She arrested his wrist, unsure if she wanted to throw it away from her or use it to pull him in. Helplessly indecisive, she swallowed and tried to explain herself.

"But you're… I know you aren't, in some ways, but you still _are_ —"

"A boy?" Hope finished. His fingertips dragged over her cheek as his hand fell away. He slumped against the headboard. "You're right, of course. Sometimes, I just want to… I want to drop the act. Forgive me."

"Hope, I…" Lightning mirrored his gesture, running her fingers down one side of his face. "I do understand." She didn't know what else to say or do, but it seemed to help. The ghost of a smile turned up his mouth, and he kissed her fingertips as they passed.

"Thank you for that. Sleep well, Light," Hope murmured, sliding beneath his blanket.

Lightning followed suit, her cold pillowcase a welcome relief. She lay awake, though, trying not to watch him. Shuddering when he rolled onto his back, his face and neck exposed to shafts of moonlight through the curtains. His presence would be torture, for a while. A year seemed like an eternity, and two years? Impossible.

The line she walked was already pulled taut, barely holding up under its burden. Lightning turned and buried her face in her pillow, digging her fingers into the sheet.

_How did I get myself into this?_

She let him in, for one. She let Hope wrap his hands around her heart, and it still wasn't enough. No, she just had to inch closer. His pull was stronger than his push. If she stopped pushing back, or pulled the slightest bit, his paper-thin resistance might give way.

That thought made Lightning's stomach turn. Hope struck her as a little too vulnerable – to her, in particular. It contradicted his older mentality and his will to fight back, both of which were strong enough to keep his body in check. But if Hope wasn't equipped to resist her, for whatever elusive reason, something was still broken inside.

For all she knew, it could've been an aftereffect from Bhunivelze's one hundred sixty-nine years of torture and takeover. She had never determined if the god of light was truly obsessed with making her his goddess, or if that had just been Hope's emotions on a deified scale.

Either way, they had shared an object of interest: Her.

" _He chose that boy for a reason."_

It was too unsettling to think about. An intense shiver ran down her body, and she wrapped herself tightly in the comforter.

"Hnn… Light?" Hope slurred. His arm bumped against her side, and he asked sleepily, "You just… A-are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was probably a draft."

"Oh, well… Here." He shifted around, pulling at his blanket, and the next thing Lightning knew he'd draped part of it over her. "Better? Or should I close the window?"

"No, this is fine." She faced him and smiled. "Thanks."

He returned the smile before his eyelids fell shut. "Any time."

_I don't care what anyone says. Hope is no Bhunivelze._

She knew she still had to sift through the dregs of his past, though. Then and there, Lightning decided that if she didn't uncover the source of his nightmares and struggles, she couldn't call herself Hope's protector.

She couldn't even call herself his partner. Not if she took advantage of his weakness for her. God knew he didn't need that.

Sickened at herself again, Lightning wanted to vanish into the mattress.

_Damn it, what was I thinking?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 A/N: Yes, occasionally I am shameless ;-)


	7. Signs

As far as Lightning could tell, one good night's rest had done Hope a world of good. For most of Saturday, he completely took over the living space, spreading the collection of project paperwork all over the kitchen table, arranging it into tidy sets, and switching into some kind of processing mode. He would circle the table, study a couple of related diagrams and make changes or take notes for an hour or so, and move on to a different set of papers.

The quiet was nothing like his cold silence before. Sometimes Hope would talk to himself, and occasionally he asked her for a second opinion – not that she felt her opinion contributed much. Mostly, Lightning just checked on him at intervals, in between coordinating with Snow on a side project of her own.

They were installing a small emergency escape door in the back of her closet, for Hope's use in the event of a more aggressive operation involving more than one cult spy. As bold as the New Order was becoming, there was no limit to how prepared she and Hope needed to be.

Whenever Lightning did step away from her closet area to pass through Hope's work zone, she tried to stay in the loop by gathering as much information as possible. She discovered that the team's rail system plans were fairly fleshed out, as far as routes and general design concepts were concerned, and that he was concentrating primarily on the logistics.

She also discovered that many of the papers included in the folder were his own drafts – he took liberties with alterations and his notes matched the handwriting. It was a clean, almost typewriter script with a slightly leftward slant.

Hope was writing with his left hand. Lightning did a double-take at the sight but did not bring it to his attention. She felt sure he'd been right-handed in the past, with his boomerang and her knife, and that he continued to favor his right. It was hard for her to believe that she'd missed such an obvious discrepancy.

She wanted confirmation.

On Sunday, Snow finished off his work on the emergency door by lunchtime, freeing up Lightning to watch Hope more closely. He used utensils, dried dishes, and even made line and sketch adjustments with his right hand. She concluded that his handwriting was the exception.

At the end of the evening, she handed Hope his teacup, which he also accepted with his right hand and a sweet smile.

"You aren't really left-handed, are you?" Lightning asked.

Hope looked down at his cup, fleetingly noting his preference. "No, I'm not. Or at least, I wasn't before," he said. He shifted the cup to his left hand and narrowed his eyes. "You must've thought it was strange, watching me write. I try not to dwell on it, but without the convenience of keyboards I can't ignore the fact. It's like… the wiring was tweaked in this body, somewhere."

"But your mind," Lightning started in, tapping the side of his head, "It's obviously intact. You've got your skill set, your personality and your memories." She stopped for a moment of reminiscence and snorted at her own somewhat contradictory observations. "Well, maybe a little more attitude and a few less memories, but the point stands."

"To be fair, you knew me when I was actually fourteen – naïve and insecure by default," he corrected with a crooked smile. "The attitude came with time and exposure to incompetence. As for the memory loss, well… to be honest, the more I recover, the more I'd rather forget."

Hope passed the teacup back to his right hand, breathed in the calming steam, and took a sip. "I wish I didn't remember waking up in the Ark in a fourteen-year-old body, with only marginal control over my movements. As Bhunivelze's consciousness became more powerful, I intermittently lost awareness. I could tell that he was frustrated with my surviving peculiarities, and he tried to neutralize them."

Lightning tightened her grip around the cushion under her, bracing herself for a slew of information she both dreaded and needed to hear. "Tried, or succeeded?"

"Oh, he tried very hard," Hope said. He switched the cup to his left hand, shuddering minutely. "Once, I came to with one of your intended weapons in my right hand – some kind of short sword. I gave it a few test swings and was just about to pack it up when I started to hear a buzzing all around. I could feel this enormous pressure, and I knew Bhunivelze was taking over again. He forced my left hand to take the sword and slice open my right palm."

Hope held up his palm, revealing a faint scar crossing the center. "It's surreal," he said with a caustic grin, "Hearing yourself scream while you black out. Bhunivelze was blindsided by the simple feeling of pain, and I realized that I could fight back in the smallest ways. After that, I did every single task left-handed whenever I had control, just to spite him. He wanted perfection and balance, so I became a clumsy lefty."

The account sent her stomach plummeting, but Lightning kept it to herself. She took his right hand and turned up his palm, tracing her fingertip over the scar. The wound had been expertly sealed; she wouldn't have noticed such a clean line if he hadn't pointed it out.

"You write left-handed like a natural, though," she remarked.

"That part was the tweaking, I think," he sighed. He stared at his scarred palm, almost accusingly. "I'm not sure how it happened, but I can't even sign my name with this hand, anymore."

"Have you tried?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Hope pulled away and raked his hand through his hair, shifting his eyes to the table of papers and back as he polished off his cooling tea. "If I show you what I mean… Will you keep it to yourself?"

_Is this really about your handwriting?_

"It can't be that bad," Lightning said. "But I won't tell anyone." She got to her feet, and Hope followed, shaking his head.

"You won't believe it." He took a seat at the table, picked up the pencil with his right hand, and set it to the back of a rejected sketch. For nearly a minute, he wrote nothing. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline while he concentrated, his stare scorching the blank page, but he finally dragged the tip in a downward stroke.

The pencil flew into an arc, etching out a dot, and then a sweeping line. One stroke after another, it danced along the page with inhuman speed and form until he suddenly stopped.

Lightning gaped at the string of foreign symbols.

"Is that… your full name? In some ancient script?"

"Do you know any ancient script?" Hope asked. His voice was quiet and anxious.

Lightning shrugged, trying not to think about the meaning of that strange phenomenon. "I should, considering I was stuck in Valhalla for a few centuries. But no, I don't know any ancient script, and I can't read that."

As he stood, Hope swiped the paper and crumpled it into a ball. "It doesn't matter," he said, tossing it into the trash bin. "At least you know why I write with my left hand, now. One less thing to explain."

The afterimage of those symbols hung behind Lightning's eyes, though, feeding her curiosity. She wondered if they might provide a glimpse into Hope's condition, if anyone could read them. Someone like Yeul, who had originally lived in the most ancient civilization of Gran Pulse. Not that Lightning would identify the source to her.

_Looks like I'll be raiding the garbage, later._

Hope just circled the table, carefully gathering the scattered sets of paperwork into a single stack and slipping it into the folder.

Lightning thought he looked unnaturally drained. She stopped him by the wrist as he passed.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," he said, waving in the general direction of his blanket nest.

That was as far as she'd thought. She wanted to steer him elsewhere, but that would not do. Fumbling for words, Lightning released him, crossed her arms and muttered, "Alright, I guess if you like people spying on you."

"Would you rather they spy on us both?" He cocked his head, smirking at her suddenly flustered state. "I'm teasing, Light. But I really did think the last couple of nights were… You know, you being over-protective. And maybe taking pity on me. Just for the weekend, or something."

Hope waited patiently for her to respond, but she only stood and brushed past him. "You can do whatever you want. I wasn't limiting your options."

He was around her and blocking her door in seconds. Lightning tried to push him aside, huffing in aggravation when he grabbed her hands.

"Light, tell me the truth," he said, his eyes commanding her attention. "Would you like me to join you? Or stay out here?"

_Should I lie?_

Cornered, she felt a momentary flash of panic and quickly formulated her escape. Using his hands, she spun Hope out of the way, freed herself and pushed inside her room, slamming the door behind her.

She called back to him, "Just… forget I said anything. I'm going to sleep."

"Oh. Okay, then," he said sheepishly. "Goodnight."

* * *

Lightning had zero will to get up. She lay still, somewhere between sleeping and waking, soaking in a pool of warmth. It was mostly concentrated at her back, so she rolled over and pressed in closer to the source.

She got a face full of hair, and her eyes shot open.

Hope turned, his foggy eyes blinking into focus between the silver layers that fell around his face. He smiled a bit at Lightning's dazed expression, inches from his. She remained immobilized when he threaded a hand up into her hair and guided her face lower, nestling it against his neck. She thanked whatever powers might be that her bunched up comforter maintained a barrier to the rest of him.

"Were you cold?" he asked. The rough, lower register to his voice was messing with her head, and her heartbeat hit a full sprint.

Lightning tried to relax her breathing, but she had never been close enough to pick up on the scent of his skin before. No matter how she rationalized it, he smelled too damn good – mild, bed-warmed and inviting. Mustering her determination, she focused on the pencil-thin line of a scar that ran along his collarbone, only partially exposed above his t-shirt collar.

"I'm fine."

_Okay, this really is torture. When did he even come_ in _here? He usually wakes me up when he sleepwalks…_

"That's good," Hope replied, combing his fingers through her hair. "Hard to believe it's already Monday. Kind of unfortunate."

Lightning's first instinct was to bolt, but her sympathetic side warned against that plan. She'd comforted Hope in similar ways on many occasions. He wasn't trying anything untoward, only staying close and responding to her.

He was toeing the line.

And she was struggling to accept the reversal. Lightning got a tentative grip on his hand, clearing her throat. "We should probably get up."

Hope chuckled, the sound vibrating against her. He slipped his hand free and took hers instead, moving them both to his chest. His heart pumped a slow, steady beat under her fingertips.

_How is he so calm?_

"Sazh never gets here before sunrise," he explained with a yawn. "What's the rush?"

"You know I don't sleep in."

"Lies," Hope said. He traced a pattern across the back of her hand. "I woke you up on Saturday."

Lightning groaned, her stomach fluttering. "That was a fluke. I blame Vanille's suspicious pudding."

With a short laugh, Hope countered, "We _both_ know there wasn't any alleged cactuar juice. Your body probably shut down because it needed sleep, but you kept ignoring it, as per usual. I swear, you are the world's worst about doing that…"

"My body can shove it," Lightning muttered, pushing up from him. She wasn't about to tempt fate any further.

Hope locked eyes with her, tightening his grip on the back of her hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden, sharp knock at the front door cut him off.

"Rise an' shine!" Sazh yelled from outside, his voice muffled from one direction but floating around the house to reach them through the window. "Another fine week's waitin' for us, so let's get a move on!"

Lightning felt the heat bloom in her cheeks. She ducked her head, her fingers clenching around Hope's t-shirt. "I knew we were pushing it. Just… Ugh. Just wait here, and I'll—"

"Light, calm down." Hope released her hand but took hold of her arm, rolling up from his position to press her back against the pillows. Her breath caught when he leaned down and murmured in her ear, " _You_ stay. I'll handle this."

He left a soft kiss on her temple, climbing over her and off the edge of the bed. "Get dressed, okay?"

"No need to tell me," Lightning grumbled, slowly burning alive under the covers as she watched him walk away. Watched him steal a pair of her baggy sweatpants and pull them on over his boxers.

They looked much better on him.

_You expected less? Good luck ever fitting any of_ that _into skimpy garb._ She fought but failed to eradicate the thought, which sent her sinking below the comforter to her eyeballs.

Hope shook his head at the door and smiled at her over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll give them back."

"Keep them," she muttered.

After he left, Lightning heard him answering Sazh from the living room. Her face still tingled, and the dark, desperate part of her mind wanted to screw the project and get him good.

Starting with that cute ass.

_What the— No! Why did he have to point that out?_

_And why did it have to be true?_

Lightning shoved the covers aside and leaped into action, heading straight for the closet. She dug up her gear and hurried through the usual motions. Shame was snaking its way between every other thought, but it couldn't banish them. It just compounded her misery.

Fueled as she was by emotional turmoil, she got ready in record time.

And somehow, in the haze of her thoughts, she found her way to two clear objectives: securing Hope's discarded note from the trash, and getting on-point about her bodyguard work. There could be no more needless distraction.

_I'm here to protect him. Like it or not, he needs me._

* * *

Her determination transcended breakfast and carried through the workday. Lightning thrived on her renewed sense of duty, clearing their path through town with her commanding presence and attracting more than the typically casual dismissal at Sazh's project office.

Whether or not it was an improvement, she could tell that his team members were genuinely intimidated – almost as though they'd witnessed the ghost of her from three weeks running take on corporeal form. This time, they dodged her gaze or took alternate routes.

Hope's mood shift was even more obvious. Lightning heard the other team members in the conference room dropping occasional hints about her and questioning his changed demeanor at intervals throughout the day.

The particular conversation that truly glued her ear to the wall, however, had nothing to do with her.

Hope was mid-sentence in a heated discussion about fuel sources when someone cut him off with a boisterous laugh.

"Whoa there!" the laughing man blurted. "Mr. Katzroy, I think your AI's going rogue!" His remark was joined with a chorus of snickers.

Sazh made a noise of dismissal. "Chief, you need to keep it professional. Let Hope say his piece before you go makin' comments."

"And I am _not_ AI," Hope interjected. Lightning could hear the trace of venom in his voice. "I'm only being rational. Right now, any available fuel that isn't used up in the production plant is typically rationed out to the population – it's an inefficient system. There would never be enough left over to run the track-laying machinery, much less a train. Whether we eventually incorporate electrical power is beside the point without a startup power source, and there aren't any substances with 'magical' properties on this planet. Coal is as close as we get, right now."

"So what? You're suggesting we cut the rations completely and leave everyone in the cold?" another man in the room snapped.

"No, I'm suggesting we cut the rations temporarily and work with the track-laying system Rolph designed." Hope paused, apparently pointing out the person or graphic in question. "The prototype is already built, it's just sitting there useless until we find the resources to run it. If we commandeered a portion of fuel for building a section of the rail line first, we could establish a couple of new mines, expand the system, and haul in more fuel via handcar by winter."

"Or we could use up all the fuel and freeze," one woman countered. "How could we possibly guess at potential mine locations or the yield of deposits, even if we happened to find a site?"

Hope didn't miss a beat. "It's not guesswork. The coal deposits exist, we just need a way to reach them, mine them, and transport the fuel."

A silence, which Lightning felt instinctively was one of shock, settled over the room.

"Kid, where exactly are you getting this info?" someone asked, finally. Lightning vaguely recognized the voice of the surveyor from the previous week. "I've done a few dozen treks over the past year, and not once did we stumble upon new coal deposits. It takes a specialized crew to even get to the stuff."

"But those sites were… They were on the map," Hope stammered. "I remember seeing them, I swear—"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't my map!" the surveyor cut in.

"Hold up a minute." Sazh had adopted his firm, fatherly voice to regain control of the situation. "I'm sure we can take a look at our maps one more time…"

Lightning couldn't take it anymore. She cracked open the back door and slipped inside, and every eye instantly zeroed in on her position.

The room was much more cramped than she'd anticipated. Hope was closest to the door, per their agreement that he stay near the exit she was guarding. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands planted on the table, and he half-turned to face her in confusion.

"Light," he nearly whispered. "Is something wrong?"

A woman snorted at the far end of the table. "Must be, if we've alerted your girlfriend the Savior."

"Don't mind me," Lightning said dismissively. She leaned against the door and crossed her arms. "Nothing is wrong, I'm just bored."

"Oh, something's definitely wrong," the very vocal surveyor interjected. He whipped out a thick, rolled paper as long as the table was wide and slapped it down in front of Hope.

"I'm a master cartographer, and that's the best damn map in existence," he said, speaking directly to Lightning. "The kid may think we've magically discovered a bunch of promising coal deposits, but if they aren't on this map, they aren't on any map. Period."

"Let's take a look, then." Lightning remained impassive, only stepping in beside Hope to grab one end of the map. Practically everyone got involved, and once the thing was fully unrolled it nearly covered the table.

Admittedly, it was an impressive rendering of the known world's terrain. At least twenty small villages and several varieties of mines were marked, including those near the bandit outpost to the far north. The legend and scale indicated a distance of hundreds of miles in every direction, terminating in mountain ranges, canyons, or desert.

"I-I don't understand," Hope muttered. He squinted at the map, as if it was hiding something, and ran his fingers southward from the settlement's position, pointing as he spoke. "There should be deposits at the base of this mountain, in these caverns, in a depression east of this forest, and right between these two villages, here. That's just at a glance, though."

He spread his hands as far as he could reach to the left and right along the paper, adding in puzzlement, "Why isn't the ocean on this map, though? It's just… off. Like half the continent's missing."

_What the hell is a continent?_

Looking up, Hope gasped at the confounded faces all around. He only met Lightning's gaze directly, mirroring her expression.

"You don't… believe me?"

Lightning hurriedly composed herself. "Hope, if I'd known there was an ocean out there, I would've packed up the family and moved on the spot."

"You didn't know, because no one does," the cartographer said. He legitimately sounded unsettled. "And I'll be damned if some teenager met up with any of our survey teams on the frontier. They don't report back until July."

He slammed his hands on the table. "So either you're lying, or you know some freelance explorer who was spinning tales."

"Now listen, Hope wouldn't just make a bunch o' bogus claims," Sazh interjected, a hint of warning in his tone. "We're gonna call it a day and put this topic to rest until I track down the source. Everyone got that?"

The several engineers and surveyors in the room muttered or nodded their agreement, with the exception of the master cartographer.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he scoffed.

"Suit yourself," Lightning retorted.

Hope remained silent. He betrayed no reaction to the accusation, his cold stare redirecting the blame to the map before him. Finally, the cartographer rolled up his precious creation and headed for the exit.

"Oceans on the map, my ass," he grumbled in passing.

Once only the three of them remained, Lightning placed a hand on Hope's shoulder and squeezed.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Not here."

It stung, but she acknowledged his valid concern and let him go.

"Try not to take it so hard, son," Sazh said. "I'm sure you know what you saw, and that map is bound to turn up. You may just remember more about it after a good night's sleep." The older man put on a smile and returned Hope's folder to him, but Hope didn't move his eyes from the table when he accepted it.

"Thanks, Sazh. I'll give it a try."

* * *

The rest of that week was tense, to say the least, and the rest of April slipped by with no improvement. Sazh exhausted every lead he could find in his extensive network of associates, including Snow's connections and those of the council, but nothing turned up about the map Hope had seen.

With every passing day, Lightning watched her partner retreat further into himself. The passion that had reignited and fueled his creative progress was dying as whispers of his shady sources or possible delusional tendencies started to spread among the project team. Hope still tried to contribute to their discussions, but they were losing what fragile trust had been established.

To make matters worse, someone in the ranks was clearly tipping information to the New Order. Lightning and Hope met with twice as many unpleasant encounters while transiting through town, regardless of whether Sazh was present, and more circuitous routes proved to be no better. The black armbands could spawn practically anywhere, at any time.

Lightning chased off spies on an almost nightly basis during her perimeter sweep of the house, as well. It was getting too warm to close the windows at all, so there was nothing to be done about the information they were likely overhearing.

Thin curtains could only stop their eyes.

_Nothing_ could stop their mouths. Every time Lightning caught one of them, it was another round of bowing and scraping, complete with a tremulous warning about the dangers of being close to "that boy" and a reaffirming of the New Order's intent to serve her.

She would sharply denounce their claims and frighten them away, all the while wanting to scream, _Leave us the hell alone! And his name is Hope, for the thousandth time!_

Lightning was already at her wits' end when the elusive leader of the New Order stooped to confronting her directly.

It was a muggy afternoon, made all the worse by the dense crowd they were pressing through. Hope couldn't help that he kept getting pushed into her by the shoving elbows of townspeople, but Lightning was more than aware that their continuous contact might prompt intervention.

Suddenly, a tall, hooded cultist swept past them and arrested her shoulder. She had her fist at the ready, but he pushed back his hood just enough to reveal his smirking face. She felt herself freeze.

_Cid Raines._

Lightning wanted to interrogate him then and there. Her throat was on fire with the unsaid curses that had built up against his entire cult. But in the seconds that he had her full attention, Cid did nothing more than murmur a warning in her ear.

"You are running out of time, Savior."

She was thrown that _Lord_ Raines didn't reiterate the sentiments echoed by his followers; he didn't even acknowledge Hope. Before she could reconsider punching him, he let her go and drifted back into the flow of bodies.

That incident was the last straw. Lightning was done with discussion and avoidance. None of that was working, and she wanted her message to the New Order to be loud and clear.

_You want a Savior? I'll give you one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 A/N: All the tension, all the time <3


	8. Submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYSA - here is where the "gore and violence" warnings begin to take effect...

After the ill-boding encounter with Cid, Lightning resorted to wearing her iconic Equilibrium garb for all outings with Hope. She refused to give an inch, and she silently dared the cult leader to cross her path again. She even tracked his spies on brighter nights, hoping to identify the New Order's usual meeting location, but they always took different routes into the woods heading up the mountainside.

Lightning never got quite far enough. She was unwilling to leave Hope for very long at a time, even in a locked-down house.

Hope had his own part of the routine down. He would hide in the back of the closet with her knife until she returned, just in case he needed to utilize the small escape door they had created; they had even run drills to make sure he was prepared to sprint, climb, or crawl into multiple safe points in range. And in response to Lightning's tactical power projection in public, he resorted to absolute silence.

He became little more than a dutiful shadow, in fact. He did his chores religiously, spoke when spoken to, and kept to his side of the bed. His nightmares were the only force that drove him close to her, and not in a good way. They intensified for several nights on end, an inverse reaction to his controlled waking hours. He would shake and cry, covered in sweat and gasping for air when she finally got him to wake up.

_Why is he doing this to himself?_

Lightning sensed that he was hiding something specific. Hope was keeping his thoughts completely closed off, leaving her very little to go on, but through those passing weeks she still carried the scrap paper in her pocket with his cryptic writing.

It was a single thread of a lead that she could follow.

The upcoming Saturday would give her a much-needed opportunity to do just that, because Yeul planned to finally join them for ladies' day. Lightning knew there would never be a more perfect time to attempt deciphering the note, hopefully furthering her understanding of Hope's condition.

She had never needed that insight so badly.

* * *

Before she knew it, Friday came and went. Lightning's anticipation wound itself up to anxiety, and she lost most of that night's sleep playing over scenarios of what the former seeress might say about Hope's message.

_What if Yeul doesn't recognize the writing, though? And what if she asks who wrote it? It's possible that he_ did _sign his name. I promised Hope I wouldn't say anything, but that might be a dead giveaway._

Lightning groaned into her pillow. She still had to make it through half the day before those questions would be relevant. It was just past midnight, and the subject of her troubling thoughts slept obliviously beside her, hugging his wadded blanket. Hope's back was turned, but his breathing seemed calm. She watched him, counting out the rhythm of rise and fall, and gingerly pressed her palm between his shoulder blades. The expansion of air was slow and easy.

_Can't you stay like this? Why is that such a crime? If I could just help you…_

Her fingertips curled in of their own accord, and Hope shuddered violently – a fraction of a moment that shattered the peace. Lightning was quick to wrap one arm around him, pulling him close before another of his many hellish nightmares could escalate to a panic attack. It always happened so quickly. Not ten seconds had passed and he was already panting for air.

_Damn it all._

"You're safe," she whispered, like she had so many times before. "I'm here."

Honestly, she wasn't sure which reassurance made the difference.

A dreary fog rolled in at dawn. The day creaked into motion, no different from the march of routine mornings they'd endured for weeks. Bad weather wasn't enough to stop Hope's determination to tackle the laundry, either, and Lightning wasn't about to block one of his only outlets for whatever turmoil was brewing inside him.

She wasn't about to let him go alone, though. They were set up in no time, sitting side by side on the riverbank as they silently scrubbed the clothes on washboards.

Lightning could feel the pressure of his unspoken thoughts closing around her, ten times thicker than the fog, and she finally had enough.

"Would you _say_ something, please?" she huffed, dropping the shirt she was cleaning into the wash bin with a loud splash.

Hope kept on scrubbing. "What would you like me to say?"

"I don't care," she growled, flicking a handful of water droplets in his face. "Just—something! Tell me I'm washing your shirt all wrong, or go ahead and rant about how I'm babysitting you. I'm just sick of hearing nothing when I know you want to get something off your chest."

His hands stilled. A long beat of silence passed before she heard him murmur, "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"Hope, for the last time, I am _not_ afraid—"

"You will be." When he faced her, a tear trailed down from his right eye. "But I guess it's only fair that you know, so you can make an informed decision. Maybe send me away, or eliminate the threat…"

Lightning grabbed him by his shirt collar, locking her eyes with his. "I would never send you away. You are not a threat."

"Yes, I am," he insisted, placing his palms on the sides of her face. "There is something very wrong with me. And I know, now… Sazh will never find the map that I saw. No one will."

"What do you mean?"

"Light," he said in a soft, broken voice. "It's all in my _head_. Continents, oceans, ice caps – the entire world in detail. Impossible detail! I can't even tell how much I know anymore. If it's even me who knows it."

Lightning tightened her grip, trying to absorb his words. She could follow the downward spiral of his reasoning, but that didn't mean she was just buying it. And she would have leapt into the Unseen Realm before saying it aloud.

_No. Bhunivelze is dead._

If anything, his presumption pissed her off.

"You think that scares me?" she said, abruptly releasing her grip. "The fact that your brain is even bigger than we all suspected?"

"Don't pretend that it's nothing," Hope pleaded. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and desperately searched her eyes for understanding. "You're well aware that the only being who could have that much knowledge about this world is its creator. Bhunivelze… H-he's _still_ —"

Lightning smothered his mouth with her hand, immediately scanning the area for spies. It was difficult to see anything through the fog, but she wasn't sensing the weight of eyes on them. She could only hope there were no ears, either.

She flicked Hope's forehead with her free hand. "Don't ever say something like that out here," she whispered harshly. "Do you want the New Order to drag you away?"

He shook his head, but once she removed her hand, he looked far less convinced. Frustration and fear were at war in his eyes.

"Light, I'm not saying I want to go, but that might be for the best. If this gets worse… I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you—"

"You won't."

"You don't know that!"

"I still don't give a damn," Lightning snapped. She went back to the laundry, rinsing and wringing out another of his button-down shirts with more than necessary force. "I saved you before, and I'll keep doing whatever it takes until I'm satisfied with the results."

For a minute or so, Hope didn't move. And once he did, it was only to work on the pair of pants he'd been washing. At length, he asked her, "How can I help you with that goal?"

Lightning tossed the shirt onto his head. "What do you think, genius? Stay with me, and try to stay safe. I'd rather not spend the rest of my life tracking down where your soul reincarnated."

"You would do that?" Hope pushed the shirt up out of his eyes, staring at her with such intensity that she really did wonder if he could see into her soul. "For me?"

Lightning felt the blush overtaking her face, but she didn't care. She meant what she said and he needed to hear it. Her heart swelled and spread its warmth until a smile broke through.

"I'd find you, one way or another."

Hope smiled back shyly, casting the shirt aside to take both of her sudsy hands in his grip.

"Then let's save you the trouble. Name your terms, and I'll stay as long as you want me to."

In the face of his offer, Lightning dropped her gaze to her lap, unsure how to respond. They'd never made any sort of official arrangement, and she'd never really admitted to herself what had been true for some time.

Deep down, she wanted him to stay indefinitely. But to say that to his face carried a dizzying mix of implications, along with being blatantly self-serving.

"Light?" Hope loosened his hold on her hands. "Did I say something wrong? I guess that came out a little, um… forward."

"No, no, I just…" she stammered, shaking her head and looking him in the eye again. His brow had creased with worry. "Hope, I'm sorry. Right now, I need to watch out for you, but making you stay just because I want you around… I-I couldn't be that selfish."

In an instant, all traces of apprehension dissolved with his soft laughter. "Why not? You're only human," he said. He reached out, playfully twisting her hair around his fingers. "I can be a little selfish, too."

Lightning gaped at him, nowhere near prepared when Hope leaned closer and slipped his other hand behind her neck. Her single, sharp breath before his mouth reached hers didn't supply enough oxygen to her brain. She should've broken his hold and moved aside, or stopped his advance.

Certainly not welcomed him in. Absolutely not threaded her fingers into his hair and coaxed him deeper. It was a searching, slow-burning kiss, but his surprising lack of inhibition set her pulse racing, and an indescribable ache began to radiate through her body.

Hope knew exactly what he was doing. The fragile question of _how_ was crushed under the weight of one fact – that it couldn't be enough. Lightning would not dare entertain the thought of what enough might entail.

She didn't want to know what he saw on her face when he pulled away, either. All her shameful, compounding desires lay exposed. Lightning opened her mouth to say something – _anything_ to rectify the situation, but Hope pressed his fingers against her lips.

He half-smiled at her, his eyes still clouded with longing.

"Forgive me," he breathed, "But please… don't apologize."

* * *

Pointedly ignoring signs of a storm on the horizon, the group of young women had gathered at Fang and Vanille's house for their sixth ladies' day running. They gossiped, stuffed themselves, drank more dubious-tasting liquor – and Lightning still felt like a miserable shadow hanging back from the group.

Guilt had gradually piled up on her head over the course of the afternoon and evening, until her neck was feeling the strain. She would involuntarily lick her lips and swear she could still taste Hope – as if something of him wasn't lingering directly on her tongue anyway. If his kiss was any indicator, he'd been displeased that his superhuman knowledge hadn't covered the textures of her mouth.

_Well, it does now._

Lightning had gained a little knowledge, herself. The very thought of those irretrievable seconds made it uncomfortable to sit down, so she paced or slouched against the wall.

Worse still than her personal dilemma, Hope's crumpled paper with its enigmatic message was burning a hole in her pocket, begging to be addressed. Every time she thought about bringing it up, another doubt weighed her down.

_Why do I have to know? He wasn't_ trying _to write those creepy symbols. It's not like I would treat him any differently, no matter what they spell._

_Then again, I probably_ should _treat him differently, before things really get out of hand. He just keeps crossing lines, damn it!_

_I wish I wanted to stop him._

Fortunately, Lightning was allowed plenty of time to writhe and second-guess herself in her dark corner, uninterrupted while her sister, Lina, and their hostesses fawned over Yeul after her long absence.

For the better part of the evening.

At some point, even Lightning noticed the former seeress was tiring of the attention. Yeul made an awkward and unsuccessful attempt at excusing herself from the next round of cards, and Lightning decided it was high time to rescue the girl for her own purposes. She pushed her way into the huddle around the table and plucked Yeul from their midst.

"Give her some breathing room," she scolded, tuning out Vanille's whiny, half-drunken protests as she pulled Yeul toward the fireplace. Along the way, she muttered in an aside, "You must be sick of telling all those stories about Noel and the hunting village by now."

The girl affixed herself to the wall while Lightning snatched her glass from the mantle, took a shuddering drink, and set it aside.

Yeul shuffled her feet, glancing back at the rowdy table. "I do not wish to offend anyone."

"They'll get over it," Lightning said with a shrug. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you myself. I've got a little problem I could use your help with."

"Hm," Yeul hummed to herself, taking Lightning's hand to inspect her palm. She leaned in uncomfortably close, tilted her head the other direction, and smiled.

"I will do my best. And I haven't gotten a chance to catch up on your household, yet. How are things progressing with Hope?"

Lightning felt her face flare up. She stepped back, leery of that line of inquiry. "I-I'm not sure what you mean. He's grown a lot since you left, and he's working on a project with Sazh, now." She tightened her right hand into a fist and muttered as an afterthought, "Things would be progressing much better if the New Order would back off. I know you're no stranger to meddling religious extremists."

"That is true, but I only wondered if he was finding himself again. It can be challenging for a bound soul to stabilize; I am also still adapting to this free existence. But it sounds like Hope is the source of _your_ problem, as well," Yeul deduced, as if it was the simplest thing in the world to see, and Lightning's eyes widened minutely. "You seem… conflicted."

Another chill zipped down her spine. Lightning wanted to vanish like smoke up the chimney – whatever it took to not be standing under the microscope, right then. The strange, almost otherworldly presence of that girl, with her steely hair and soul-searching green eyes was crawling under her skin. It was impossible to ignore the equivalency. She crossed her arms and tried to play it off.

_Hmph. Maybe deities just have really similar taste in their victims._

"Well, you got the source part right. He is definitely my problem."

Yeul only looked confused. "He is more than that. Why would you lie to yourself?"

"I'm not," Lightning refuted.

Smiling again, Yeul patted the wall next to her, signaling Lightning to join her. "I've observed you for a long time, Lightning. In many ways, you remind me of Caius. Over the centuries of my countless reincarnations, my guardian came to love me. As you know, he ultimately killed the goddess of death and destroyed the timeline to free me from that cycle of suffering."

"You killed the god of light to a similar end. But we both know that there are always unintended consequences. After Etro's death, the collective force of my emotions became the Chaos that consumed the old world; this was never what I planned or desired. You've come to trust in your own strength, but you worry that it won't be enough to help Hope – just as it couldn't save Serah, before. I understand. Isn't that why you need my help?"

"Well, I… Yes." Lightning wasn't quite sure if it was Yeul's relatable experience or her own admittedly real concerns that cemented the decision, but her hand drifted straight into her pocket. She pulled out the crinkled paper and unfolded it, handing it over to the girl.

"I was hoping you might recognize this writing."

Yeul held the page between both hands, her arms fully extended, and tilted it toward the lamplight.

"Yes," she murmured. "I've seen this script before, in Paddra's most ancient temple."

As she skimmed the characters, an expression passed over her face that Lightning honestly hadn't thought possible on the former seeress. Her eyes flew wide and she gasped, crushing the paper between her hands and hurling it into the fireplace.

She stood there, staring into the flames that sprang to life from the embers. They devoured the page in seconds.

"Yeul?" Lightning rested a light hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. Slowly, she turned to face the taller woman.

" _He_ wrote that, didn't he?"

The dark emphasis she placed on the subject silenced the room for a few heartbeats, as if the others had heard a suspicious noise. They went back to their drunken card game just as quickly.

Yeul wasn't talking about Hope, even if she'd put the pieces together about who physically wrote the message. Lightning had no doubt.

So she asked the only question that remained.

"Yeul, what did it say?"

She shook her head slowly. "It was a powerful command, which is why I destroyed it," she explained in a quiet voice. "I can't be entirely sure that I read it right. The gods crafted the original symbols, and the imperfect inscriptions of fal'Cie became a template for human language, so even ancient Paddrean was derivative. But if you truly need it, I will tell you my translation. You can confirm it… with the source."

_Is she suggesting that Hope_ knows _what he wrote?_

Lightning rubbed between her eyebrows, nodding once. "Right. I appreciate the help. Even if you're unsure, I do need to hear the message."

Yeul stared into the flames again, statue-like in her pose. Her hands were clenched at her sides.

" _Submit yourself to me_."

A loud peal of thunder cracked across the air outside, reverberating through the foundation of the house. The weather had been gloomy all day, but that moment stood apart. Lightning shrank against the wall, her mind reeling with memories of her final battle against the god of light and the bone-chilling possibilities of their present dilemma. The message reeked of Bhunivelze and his obsession with control, going so far as to repeat his words from the past, but the person he intended it for was unclear.

_Is he still after me, even when Yeul's incarnations took the place of his lost goddess?_

_Or is he after Hope, his liberated puppet?_

Her trembling fingers found her glass on the mantle. Lightning saw it as her temporary reprieve from the panic about to set in, and she downed it without a second thought. The room spun for a moment but soon settled back into place.

Once another series of thunderclaps rolled on, they all heard the pounding on the door.

"Hey girls, open up!" Snow was calling. "Is Hope in there? I'm getting kinda desperate here…"

Lightning launched away from the wall, heedless of Fang's flailing and curses about scattering their cards when she bumped the table in her rush across the room. She unlocked the door and jerked it open.

"What happened?" she demanded, shoving Snow back by the chest. "I swear, if you lost him—"

"I take it he's not here with you," he said. His shoulders fell. "My kiddo broke the kettle, so he was just running over to grab yours—"

"You let him _leave_?" Lightning growled, wrapping the front of his shirt in her fist.

"Hey, I had a screaming baby on my hands! I watched Hope through our front window the whole time," Snow defended. "He went inside, but when he didn't come out after about ten minutes, I took Claire to Sazh's place and ran over to investigate. He was already gone – figured he'd snuck out to ditch us, or maybe even crash your party. Guess I was way off."

Pinching her eyes shut, Lightning rubbed at her temple. She wasn't processing the information as quickly as she wanted and needed to. "Was there… any evidence of a struggle, or what he might've been doing over there?"

"No, nothing seemed out of place," Snow said. He dodged her skeptical glare and scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean it. He didn't even take the kettle. But I wasn't looking too hard for clues at the time."

"Then let's hurry and find some." Lightning snatched his arm and pulled him after her into the premature twilight. The sun had either fled the scene completely or abdicated to the storm, sharpening the edges of the trees, their homes, and even the fire pit setup against a shadowy backdrop. The air felt thick, humid and stagnant.

Clouds of gathered gnats announced the imminent rain.

_Of all the nights to let down my guard…_

The house was disturbingly quiet and dark. Lightning muddled her way to the lamp but nearly knocked it off the corner of the table in her haste. While Snow procured a match and lit it, she leaned heavily on the table, corralling her thoughts that had begun to spin out of control.

_Why would Hope even try to ditch them? Surely he wasn't serious about turning himself over to the New Order. But then, where would he go?_

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the living room, so Lightning took a second lamp and left Snow to double check while she moved on to the bedroom.

Even with the murkiness of the alcohol in her system, something felt wrong about the room the instant she stepped inside.

Something smelled odd. She scanned the space and fixated on the bed.

The neatly-made covers were pulled askew, as if someone had fallen and slid down against the side of the mattress. Her eyes strayed to the bottom edge of the dust ruffle, noting a rusty stain and zeroing in on the slightest spatter on the floorboards. Leaning down, she brushed her fingertips over the spots and sniffed. The acrid scent of blood was all too familiar.

Suddenly, more spots seemed to come out of the woodwork. The sight set off a chain reaction as a dizzying rush of adrenaline fought to counteract her slower reflexes; she was compelled to follow the trail. Lightning got to her feet and staggered to the closet, clinging to the doorframe for support.

There, under the clutter of her hanging garb and scattered equipment, darkened streaks and splotches had painted the floor. Something had obviously been dragged through it to the back wall, toppling gear in its wake. A sliver of the last remnants of evening light filtered in a through the slightly ajar escape door.

The New Order had targeted Hope's hiding place.

And their directive was clear. They'd been preparing to pounce the very instant she left a hole in Hope's defenses. Even if she had been at home with him, the cultists could still have taken him the next time she tried to follow one of their spies. Now, he was in their hands, and time was wasting away.

If they saw fit to keep him alive.

_No, he has to be… I_ promised _I would save him!_

Lightning's vision swam, the tingling sensation of oncoming collapse washing over her. She dropped to her knees before she could keel over.

"Sis?" She distantly heard Snow coming onto the scene. He was at her side in an instant, steadying her shoulders in place. He handed her a glass of water. "C'mon now, talk to me."

Lightning merely pointed at the back of the closet, her dead stare falling to the blood streaks. "They took him."

"Oh, god," Snow choked, catching sight of the gore. He ran a hand over his face. "Damn it, we've gotta get on their trail." After a quick glance around he hopped to his feet, motioning for her to stay put.

"Wait here – and drink that water. It could take a while to search the area," he said matter-of-factly, striding for the door. "I'm going to get Sazh."

Her head didn't feel too steady as it was. Lightning nodded, barely sipping on the water as she tried to search the room again for hints of the struggle. She made her way to the dresser, jerking open the top left drawer.

The knife was gone. She desperately wanted to believe Hope still had it, wherever he was, and that he'd been able to defend himself.

That was her one comfort in the moment. She'd take what she could get.


	9. Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so THIS is the chapter deserving of a string of disclaimers. Be warned: I initially rated the fic M for gore, violence and related nastiness, to include some harsh adult language - all found here in this installment. Apologies in advance, unless that happens to be your schtick.
> 
> Oh, and one more thing. Here's a bit of vocab:
> 
> \- gibbous moon: the phase of a moon either approaching full or just beginning to wan.

Snow organized their three-person search party within fifteen minutes, though it felt like the longest stretch of time in Lightning's centuries-long life. Besides her, Snow, and Sazh, no one else could help. In addition to Yeul being a cult target herself and Lina having to watch the children, the drunken trio of Fang, Vanille, and Serah were in no shape to wander the woods at night.

There was no way in hell that they were getting Hope's parents involved.

Thanks to a diminishing blood trail behind the house and Lightning's handful of previous tracking attempts, they at least knew to start toward the river. The assailant's muddy footprints intermittently turned up along the path and indicated crossing at a rocky, shallow section of water, continuing on the other side before Lightning lost them to the underbrush. They were going to have to split up.

Sazh staked a large, conspicuous branch at the riverbank to mark their rendezvous point. Each of them carried a single flare from Lightning's border patrol stock.

"There's a cave system under this mountain," she said, briefly checking her compass.

"Oh yeah," Snow muttered. He narrowed his eyes at the treeline. "Pretty sure they abandoned a mining project for it last year – not enough entrances, and it was too difficult to get equipment inside. They even had one of the cavern ceilings collapse on a working party. But I'd be willing to bet that's where your cult's settled in."

"Exactly. We've got to comb this mountain for entrances and get to Hope as quickly as possible," Lightning surmised. She gestured straight ahead. "I'll take the main climb. Maybe we'll luck out and catch the bastard who took him, first."

The reflective cloud cover and partial light of a rising gibbous moon were on their side as the three of them fanned out and wove through the woods on the lower slope, trying to cover as much territory as possible. Snow trekked northwest along the mountain while Sazh headed southeast, and Lightning zigzagged her way directly up the side.

She wasn't quite sure what to expect. She only had a vague idea that cave entrances tended to hide behind foliage or along the steeper, overhanging sections of terrain. Over the course of a few hours, every time she hauled her body onto a slippery ledge or hacked through the underbrush near a collection of boulders, her pulse raced frantically. She would blink through the haze of intermittent rain, see nothing, and push on against the weight of disappointment.

The dreary evening gradually slipped into deep night. Lightning leaned against a mossy trunk to catch her breath, judging that it was likely past eleven by the position of the opaque moon overhead. She was halfway up the mountain and feeling the fatigue in her knees, her stomach still a mass of anxious knots, when something in the corner of her vision pulled her eyes to the left.

She had finally found a sign of life. The light of a small campfire winked through the trees a few hundred meters above her position, coupled with a string of angry grunts. Her pulse shot up, and she quickly but carefully closed in on the source.

Once syllables that sounded like "demon boy" reached her ears, Lightning was sure she'd hit pay dirt. She swiped the sweat and rain out of her eyes, crouched lower and slipped from bush to boulder to tree, eventually reaching one of the larger trunks directly blocking the semicircle of light.

The cultist in question had squatted on a flattened rock just inside the mouth of a low cave, his hood back as he tended his wounds by firelight. Unfortunately, his self-conversation quickly devolved to occasional grunts again, but Lightning watched him closely as he wrapped several layers of clean bandage over what looked like a nasty gash on his forearm. He checked on an additional bandage around his thigh. Bloodstains were smeared on his clothing in several places, and she found herself analyzing the possibilities.

She narrowed her focus to his hands as he began hastily cleaning a small, bloody object, and her mouth dropped open.

He held _her_ knife.

A surge of fury coursed through her as she confirmed her suspicions. And as much as the wounded man was a sitting duck, Lightning couldn't bring herself to care. Whatever had transpired, he had personally dragged Hope out of their home, and he was going to pay.

Lightning slunk to the edge of the cave mouth nearest his back, drew her Ultima Weapon, and leapt from the shadows. She didn't even give him the chance to stand. She locked his good arm behind him, her blade at his throat, and felt him shake with terror. He dropped her knife instantaneously.

"P- _please_ , don't—"

"Choose your words wisely, or you will die," Lightning hissed. "I need to know if Hope is alive, and where you took him. _Now_."

The cultist gulped for air. "And-and i-if I tell you…?"

"I might be merciful," she snapped. "But you'd better make this quick."

"Okay, okay, I-I'm pretty sure he's alive," the man said, his hesitation prompting her to draw the blade closer. He whimpered miserably. "I swear I didn't kill him! I had strict orders to bring him back alive! He even attacked me, b-but all I did was drug him—"

"Where _is_ he?" Lightning growled. A dozen other questions swirled in her head, but that was the only one that truly mattered.

He shook uncontrollably. "I-I don't know, I really don't! I dropped the boy off in this cave, m-maybe a couple of hours ago, but they could've taken him anywhere in the tunnels. Just-just please spare me, Savior!"

"I am not your Savior." The man under her blade was reduced to a pitiful, sniveling mess – hardly worth more blood on her hands. Lightning settled for knocking him unconscious with the butt of her sword and snatching up her knife. She also searched him for maps, keys, or any other useful items and stripped off his hooded cloak when nothing else on him proved helpful.

Donning the disguise, Lightning made her way into the deepening darkness. She could see the bright speck of a torch far in the back of the main cavern, and she hurried toward it as carefully as possible. She tripped once and splashed through a few puddles, but no one seemed to be nearby. The only sound was a continuous, echoing drip of water.

Wan torchlight splashed over the lumpy, pitted entrance to a narrow cavern path, one that sloped precariously downward. Rough steps had been hewn out of the rock for most of the way, and there didn't seem to be any other options. Aside from her simple compass' guidance to avoid circling back, Lightning had no idea where she was about to go. She followed path after path, maintaining a generally northward track, but it kept leaning eastward a little more with every subsequent turn.

The further Lightning progressed into the network of tunnels, the more keenly aware she became that the cultist outside had been telling the whole truth. He was clearly a lower-ranking lackey in the hierarchy of the New Order, which had probably led to his selection for Hope's kidnapping. He'd admitted no knowledge of the cave system, making him near useless. Thanks to that deficiency, Lightning had skipped over numerous branching paths with little indication of direction and no other presence to follow. All that resided in the tunnels were the occasional castoff miner's tools and widely-spaced torches. The chill had begun to seep into her damp, muddy clothing, even with the extra cloak.

And with every passing minute and fruitless turn in the maze, Lightning felt the rising panic over Hope's possibly deteriorating state. For all she knew, they only needed him alive to torture something out of him, and they'd had hours to work with. What they wanted with him wasn't entirely clear beyond getting him away from her, but it could not be good.

Her last brush with cult-related affairs had involved the deaths of several rose-haired girls at the hands of the militantly anti-Savior "Children of Etro." Whether she was loved or hated, Lightning was getting the impression that obsessed people tended to hurt innocents in her name.

_This is my fault. Maybe if I'd pushed him away, no matter how much he hated me for it, they would've left him alone. I was such a fool, thinking I could still protect him—_

A new sound, sharp and high, pierced her thoughts like a knife. It echoed through the small cavern she'd stumbled upon and back down the tunnel from which she had come.

Lightning covered her ears, instantly sick, and dropped to one knee. It wasn't terribly loud, but she knew the source of the sound.

Wherever Hope was, he had screamed.

Lightning swallowed hard, pushing shakily to her feet. As difficult as it was to think beyond the horrific notions in her head, she took her best guess at where the sound had originated. She charged off in that direction, trying to channel her alarm into forward momentum, and ultimately ran into more torches that lined yet another branching tunnel from the previous chamber. Despite the fact that the trail was very clearly carrying her feet upward at a steep incline, it seemed like a promising lead until a fork in the path stopped her progress.

Another scream had her cringing against the wall. Lightning recovered her wits again, her eyes beginning to sting as she identified the left branch as the best option.

The cycle felt endless. Her legs ached from the previous hours of treading uneven ground on the mountainside, and Lightning followed those chilling howls of pain for so long that she began to wonder if her mind was only replaying echoes. The screams had weakened instead of getting stronger the further in and up she went. She knew that Hope's voice couldn't hold out forever, and that idea alone flooded her vision with burning tears.

She desperately wanted whatever was happening to end, for his sake, but a small part of her feared losing her only lead before she found him.

Just when Lightning thought she might collapse into a heap of miserable failure, she dragged her leaden body around the next corner into a strikingly well-lit chamber. Her ragged breaths gradually calmed as she took stock of the markedly different surroundings. Several large stalagmites had been left in place and carved into pillar-like posts in two rows running the length of the cavern. A multitude of torches were bracketed around a broad space of wall farthest to her left. She ducked behind a closer pillar to study it, and her eyes widened at the sight of a carved mural, at least ten feet high. A chill ran down her spine when she identified herself on the wall.

It was a depiction of the Savior's victory over Bhunivelze. The almighty god she had actually faced looked very different and far more terrifying than their artist's rendition, but it was sufficient to revive her painfully real and traumatic memories – particularly the ones that the New Order could never know. She would never forget how Bhunivelze had callously strung up his puppet Hope, then beaten and crushed him to dust before her eyes.

She would never lose the sound of that voice, either – Hope's voice, stolen and warped for his own sadistic purpose.

Lightning would have killed him a thousand times, for that. She'd left the god of light in his twisted, frozen agony in the darkness of the Unseen Realm, which was the least he deserved.

The hush of voices nearby jerked Lightning out of her thoughts, and she spotted two cultists strolling into a passage on the far side.

Lightning was shadowing them in seconds. She crept from pillar to pillar until she reached the passage entrance. From there, she maintained a safe distance of several meters but kept track of them, periodically ducking into the openings of other tunnels or natural impressions in the walls. She tried to catch their intermittent conversation.

"I still say this is a waste," the woman on the left sighed, waving a small vial of liquid in view of her companion. Her voice seemed more and more familiar to Lightning as she continued. "Obviously the other dose didn't last. We'd have a hell of a lot bigger problem than a shrieking kid on our hands if he was really Bhunivelze, anyway."

_Wait,_ Lightning thought with a start. _That woman is on Sazh's project team._

The other woman gasped. "Don't say things like that! Lord Raines anticipated that Bhunivelze's weak and unstable vessel would inhibit his power. We can't take any chances."

Another guttural cry ripped its way down the passage, halting the robed women for a long, agonizing moment. Lightning flattened herself against the wall just inside the nearest branching passage and dug her fingertips into the stone. She clamped her eyes shut and clenched her teeth until the sound had stopped. It was all she could do to not charge the woman with the vial – the only thing she guessed might alleviate some of Hope's suffering.

_Not yet. Hold it together. They have to lead me closer._

Finally, they moved on. Through another series of winding tunnels upward, Lightning heard less and less frequent bursts of what broken sound remained of Hope's cries. Given their trajectory, had it not been for the clarity of his voice and the women's stated objective, she would have feared their path might simply emerge outside the mountain.

She was close, though. Close enough now to tell that some of the sounds formed words.

"N-no more. Light… _Light_ , please—"

A resounding slap echoed from an adjacent chamber into the main passage.

"You will not corrupt the Savior's name, monster!" Lightning didn't recognize that voice, but her hand found her sword hilt. She could see a metal grate door with a heavy lock ahead, clearly blocking off the passage from Hope's location. The two female cultists had stopped in front of it.

This was the destination.

She launched forward and closed the distance to the cultist with the vial, hooking her by the throat as she poked the Ultima Weapon at her back.

Relishing the woman's squeak of terror, Lightning hissed, "You're taking me in there. _Now_."

Her counterpart shrank away and dropped to her knees. "S-Savior, it's too dangerous. Why would you—?"

"Get _up_."

At Lightning's command, she shot back to her feet. The woman in her grip trembled, too stunned or frightened to speak, but Lightning maintained her hold and directed the functioning cultist instead.

"Unlock that door, and I'll spare you. I'll _think_ about your friend, here."

"W-we can't, Savior." She pointed a shaky finger at the grating. "They have the key."

Lightning ground her teeth in frustration. "Then request entrance," she growled.

Nodding furiously, the young woman approached the door and reached through the grating. She rang a small bell four times.

"Finally! You'd better have a stronger sedative this time!" the man inside shouted, his heavy footsteps coming closer.

Lightning released the other woman and hovered in the shadows behind her with her hood up. She still kept the Ultima Weapon poised at the woman's back.

"Act natural," she whispered sternly. "Your life depends on it."

But just before the approaching man reached the door, another male voice carried across the room and halted his progress.

"Stop. I wish to speak with the creature, first. The sedative can wait."

Cid's voice was undeniable.

"Lord Raines, are you sure that's safe?" the man called, turning his back to Lightning and the other two cultists outside the grating.

"Oh, I think he's been sufficiently subdued."

Lightning peered around the woman in front of her, trying to map the room and assess the situation. She could see Cid through the grate door, striding from another side entrance toward the middle of a fairly large, circular chamber. Torches lined the walls, but there was another light source spreading over the central portion of the room. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the exact center due to the cultist standing just inside the door. She could only assume that Hope was there.

When the man backed to the nearest wall to take up a defensive post, the entire scene lay in view. Lightning felt her heart stop.

Ghostly moonlight poured in from a large opening in the slanted ceiling, and the flash of Hope's rain-drenched hair arrested her focus. It was illuminated directly under the light source, matted with blood around his face and on the ends. Her throat seemed to close, and her focus wavered to the floor. The puddle of ruddy water surrounding him was equally unsettling, but Lightning forced her eyes back up to see every ounce of the punishment she had brought on him.

Hope slumped forward on his knees. The support of a rope that bound his wrists to the post behind him seemed to be all that kept him upright. He had no clothes, covered instead with strangely precise incisions, like guidelines on a carcass for preparation. Thin ribbons of blood snaked along the lines and down his body, feeding and darkening the puddle of rainwater drop by drop.

Lightning's stomach lurched. She barely managed to swallow down the rising bile, sharply reminding herself that it would only get worse if she destroyed her chance to get inside.

"Are you ready to confess?" Cid asked coolly. "We have all the time in the world, little god. None of your wounds are life-threatening."

Hope choked out something like a bitter laugh. "Why won't you just kill me?"

"Now, you know very well why." Approaching him, Cid lifted his chin with the tip of his sword. "We can't have your tainted soul coming back again for vengeance. No – we only need to sever your connection. After all, what god would want such a pitiful, broken vessel?"

"If I'm so pitiful," Hope rasped, "and so broken, why won't you let me go?"

Cid removed the sword, but Hope held his head upright, shaking from the strain.

"Because you are still defiant filth. You corrupt our Savior."

"You obviously don't know your _Savior_ very well. Light would never—"

He was silenced with a boot to the abdomen, his words dissolving into coughs.

"Be grateful that the Savior took pity on you," Cid sneered. "She doesn't think for her own safety. If you had a shred of decency, you would leave her presence forever! I'm wasting my breath to even ask if you're prepared to do that, but you will never see outside this cave again, otherwise."

Hope sank even lower on his knees, his gaze fixed on the pool of bloody water. "It doesn't matter what I say. I've told you a hundred times," he said, coughing again. "I'm willing to leave, but she _asked_ me to stay."

"So you insist on this lie? If you've truly deceived her into such an arrangement, you are more dangerous than I suspected," Cid declared, turning away with a flourish of his cloak. "I've heard enough."

"No, it wasn't like that!" Hope cried, hoarse and desperate. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please…"

He choked off in a sob, pinkish tears rolling down his face to hit the water.

Looking back, Cid glared at the chastened boy. "The Savior has no need of you. Stay here and rot, little god, until your soul departs, content to never return to this world. You may hope to survive if Bhunivelze sees fit to spare his broken puppet, which I highly doubt, but you will not escape."

That should have been the end of it. Lightning held her breath, waiting for Cid's footsteps to fade away and the other cultist to open the gate. Her muscles were twitching in anticipation.

But to his credit, or possibly reckless desperation, Hope spoke up again.

"You don't understand anything," he said. He spat blood to the ground. "If I die… you will fail."

Cid stopped in his tracks. He turned, slowly tapping the broadside of his sword against his other palm. "Explain yourself, filth."

Hope had managed to raise his head again, still trembling slightly. Against all probability, he seemed calm. "You claim to be attempting to sever Bhunivelze's connection to me, like cutting the strings of a puppet body. But if that's the case, you're admitting that your Savior failed to kill the god of light – contradicting the New Order's central tenet."

"Whether the Savior killed Bhunivelze or just contained him in a powerless state would not shake our resolve to serve her," Cid countered. "I can't claim to be all-knowing."

"Then I'll enlighten you. She did both of those things," Hope said, faintly smiling through the obvious strain. "She saved my tortured, twisted soul, which could only return to this powerless body. Bhunivelze the omnipotent is dead. His decision to fully fuse with me was his undoing, but it also secured his survival. I remember…" His cracking voice wavered, and he stopped for a shuddering breath. Despite the sweat, blood and tears streaking his face, his gaze was unflinching.

"I remember _everything_ , now. I should thank you for helping me realize the truth."

To say that Cid Raines was dumbfounded did not quite cover it. Lightning had never seen him so caught off guard, unable to find words for a long, steadily thickening silence.

She was about as dumbfounded herself.

_Then he is… No! But how could he ever make up that kind of confession?_

"You… you admit it, then," Cid finally stammered, taking the slightest step back. "The god of light _fused_ himself to your soul. To what purpose could he possibly have made that decision?"

Hope coughed harshly, rattling his frame and rippling the bloody water, but he recovered to croak out an answer. "He needed a vessel to interface with humanity – to understand and lead them in his new world. He wasn't planning on being defeated by his Savior, of course, and I was initially just a puppet. Fusing with me… It was his last resort."

"I still can't see why he would choose such a weak vessel," Cid scoffed.

"He was an all-powerful god; he only needed my soul and my connection to his chosen Savior," Hope explained hoarsely. "At the time, I was an adult. He isolated me, found my weakness, tormented my mind until it broke, and spent one hundred sixty-nine years molding me into a younger, more innocent vessel."

Pausing, Hope laughed, but the brittle sound seemed more like a cry. "Just look at what innocence got me! My soul carried over the scars, which your assistant so painstakingly retraced. Didn't you wonder what they were from?"

Cid approached him again, standing just outside the edge of the blood-tinged water. He planted his sword, rested his hands on the hilt and looked down at Hope with open disdain.

"If you have a weakness, little god, I demand to know what it is."

"You already know," Hope nearly whispered. "Even a heartless god like Bhunivelze could see it. I… I would do anything for Light."

_It was me?_ Lightning thought with a start. Her pulse pounded in her ears. _Bhunivelze used_ me _against Hope? But I was still in stasis…_

"Yet another lie. You've made it clear that you have no intention of doing what's in our Savior's best interest," Cid reiterated. "And you are still an abomination. If we must keep you alive to contain you, then so be it."

"No! If she wanted me to leave, I would!" Hope choked out, his voice completely shattered. "It might kill me, but I'd do it! I've given you your confession and everything you've asked for, so why are you disregarding it?"

Cid strolled back to the side exit. "I intend to report our findings to the Savior. She must know exactly what you are. Now that we know you pose no physical threat, our purpose is simply to keep her away from your corrupting influence." Pausing, he gestured at the guard across the room. "Administer the sedative."

"Yes, Lord Raines."

The guard was moving again as Cid's footsteps faded. He approached the gate, and Lightning felt another powerful rush of adrenaline at the grinding sound of a key in the lock.

She adjusted her stance, preparing for a fight.

_Damn the consequences. Whatever Hope is now, I won't leave him here._

The door swung open. Lightning followed the shuffling women just long enough to get inside before she shoved past her hostage, snatching the vial from her hand. She faced off with the much larger male cultist, but his short sword was no match for her Ultima Weapon.

Their blades had yet to cross when his eyes went wide.

The man dropped his weapon and fell to his knees immediately upon recognition of her distinctive sword.

"Savior," he said, his eyes on her boots. "I beg you to leave this place."

Lightning was breathing rapidly, her sword hovering just above his head as she fought back the urge to lop it off. For all she knew, he'd been the one to turn Hope's body into a carving board.

But she also knew he was acting on orders. Lowering her sword, she snapped at the cultist, "I am _not_ leaving without Hope. You had best stay out of my way."

Exhaustion and a singular drive ultimately pushed her past the guard and pulled her toward the center of the room. Hope watched her every step, open-mouthed but unable to speak for the longest as his eyes grew larger. Fresh tears spilled freely over the dried blood on his face. When she reached him, he lowered his gaze to his knees.

Lightning steadied his shoulder with one hand, fighting to ignore the sharp metallic smell and stickiness on her palm, and slashed cleanly through the rope that anchored him. Her eyes blurred over as she knelt behind him, feeling the lukewarm, watered-down blood soak into the front of her pant legs. She sheathed her sword and steadied her trembling fingers to tackle the binding on his wrists with her knife. Hope's hands were icy and the cave's chill prickled what skin was visible between the blood trails, but he shook more from his sobs.

"Shh, hold still," she murmured. "I'm taking you home."

He managed a nod and several measured breaths. It took longer than it should have, but Lightning finally tossed the pieces of rope away. Hope made a small, pained sound when his arms finally dropped to his sides. Half a minute later, with slow and agonizing movements, he shifted off his knees. He turned to face her, relief and shame mixing freely in his eyes, but he quickly looked away.

"I-I can't…" Hope choked, his shoulders shaking again. "I can't believe… you found me."

Lightning's chest constricted, a vice on her heart. She unhooked her cloak and draped it over him, and then pulled the vial from her pocket. "They were bringing another sedative. Do you want it?"

"No, no," Hope said immediately. "If we're leaving, I-I'll need to walk."

"Like hell," Lightning muttered.

"Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?" Cid's voice rang across the cavern. He had reappeared in the tunnel opening through which he'd exited, watching them impassively.

Lightning stood and moved in front of Hope to shield him from the threat. She drew her Ultima Weapon.

"I said I'm taking him home. That's exactly what I'll do." She whipped around and pointed her blade at the kneeling guard. " _You._ I need bandages and any other medical supplies you've got, right now."

The cultist apparently knew his place, because he ran off down another passage without hesitation.

Cid sauntered confidently into the torchlight. "I suppose you weren't around for the boy's confession, Savior. There are some truths you ought to know, for your own good."

"I heard _everything_ ," Lightning snarled. She stepped forward and slashed her blade through the air menacingly. "I don't give a fuck what you think, and I don't give a fuck if Hope thinks he's a god! I'll cut you to ribbons if you dare interfere."

For a split second, real fear flashed through Cid's eyes. He took a step back, raising his hands in penance. "Savior, we only mean to protect you—"

"I don't need protection! I _do_ need Hope, and you nearly fucking left him to die!" Her feet had carried her closer, and she leveled the sword at his chest, her limbs trembling with rage.

His back to the wall, Cid had no choice but to raise his own sword. He crossed it with her red blade and met her eyes with a cool, determined stare.

"If I must fight you to free you from this madness," Cid said, "Then so be it."

Lightning adjusted her stance and swung against his sword, the metallic twang echoing around the cavern.

"This isn't _madness_ ," she growled, parrying his return blow. "This is justice!"

They wove in and out of each other's stances, her strikes becoming more and more erratic and vicious to throw off his textbook swordsmanship. She refused to be pulled into his dance. Each slash of his sword fell predictably like the next step – each with a whoosh of air as it narrowly missed its mark with telling precision. She rent his cloak in a stroke of pure luck, feeling a momentary surge of satisfaction, but Cid remained doggedly on the defensive. It wasn't long before Lightning guessed at his objective.

He was trying to wear her out.

She was not having it. Already beyond enraged and now insulted, Lightning pushed herself into high gear, her blood singing. Speed had always been on her side, and it earned her a jagged slash to Cid's arm, another to his torso, and finally one across the leg that sent him to his knees. He caught himself on his free hand, and she sliced the top of his sword hand in that same moment.

Cid's weapon clattered to the ground. With a victorious cry, she kicked the sword hard enough to send it clanging into the far wall.

Lightning lifted his chin with the tip of her Ultima Weapon.

"I want to tear you to _pieces_ ," she growled, taking a ragged, steadying breath. "But I don't have that kind of time. You and your followers flagrantly ignored my warnings, and you will pay for everything that's been done to Hope. The New Order ends now. Do you have any last words?"

"Only that I fear for you," Cid said, wincing minutely at his shallow wounds. "Savior." As he swallowed, the bob of his throat met the tip of her sword, sending a trickle of blood down his neck. Lightning moved the razor-sharp edge to the flesh beneath his right jaw.

"You won't have to fear for me anymore," she said. In one swift motion, she sliced her blade deeply across his throat and turned on her heel, heading back to the center of the room. She only heard a gurgling sound and the thump of Cid's body hitting the floor.

Hope stared up at her approach, mouth agape, fumbling to wrap the cloak more tightly around himself.

Still riding the wave of adrenaline, Lightning hooked her arms under his and hauled him out of the puddle toward a collection of supplies near the cave wall – water, rags, bandages, a tube of ointment, and a syringe stood out. The obedient cultist had done his task well, and he waited on his knees at a modest distance. Across the room, Lightning fleetingly registered that the female cultists had gone to their leader, dragging his corpse down one of the other passages.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Lightning said, noticing that the shock had not quite left Hope. It marginally overshadowed the pain in his features while she treated and wrapped his right hand.

_They even found_ that _scar. I had no idea he had so many._

Hope swiped at some of the mess on his face. "I'm sorry you had to _do_ it."

"Still no sedative?" She held up the syringe, and he shrank back into the folds of the cloak.

"No. You're too exhausted to carry me anywhere." He coughed roughly and added, "I think it'd be too far, even if you were one-hundred percent."

"You shouldn't be so stubborn," Lightning huffed. Putting the syringe aside, she helped him to drink some of the water. "Can you even stand?"

Hope braced his palms against the wall at his back, groaning at the pressure on his bandaged right hand, and just barely got his feet under him. With some assistance from Lightning, he stayed upright and leaned on the stone.

The movement had reopened some of his cuts, but he blinked the tears out of his eyes and seemed more concerned with securing the cloak in place again.

"A little late for that," Lightning muttered. She cleared her throat and knelt to riffle through the supply bag. "What did they do with your clothes?"

Hope uttered a broken laugh. "Oh, they burned them."

"Damn it," she grumbled, hastily trying to clean and bandage the more active wounds around his ankles and knees. "You'll need pants and shoes to get through the woods out there. Once we make it out of the cave, anyway."

"That's very optimistic of you."

"Hope, you're a bloody mess!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as his knees finally decided to give way. She lunged up to catch him, lowering him gently to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her neck. "I'll try again."

Lightning shook her head. She grazed her fingertips over the congealing incision along his spine and glared at the line of blood seeping through the cloak from his shoulder. Whether from blood loss, fatigue, or an aftereffect of the sedative he'd been given, Hope was in no shape to walk. He was right about her, though – she barely had the strength left to get herself down the mountain. Even if she signaled Snow and Sazh, she needed to get Hope out of the cave to meet them.

Shifting her gaze, Lightning considered the male cultist who had retrieved the supplies. He certainly looked strong enough to carry a teenager.

"You," she called, "What's your name?"

The man snapped his head up. "It's Dorian."

"Alright, Dorian. I'm going to need your assistance."

"Anything, Savior," he was quick to respond.

"Good," Lightning said. She sat back and lightly kissed Hope's surprised, blood-stained mouth. "I need you to find my partner some clothes. You'll also be carrying him out of this cave's nearest exit, and unless you want to end up like your late leader, you'll be careful about it."

Dorian's jaw dropped, but he collected himself and nodded, standing to his feet. She was sure her karmic intent was not lost on Cid's assistant.

Lightning leaned Hope against the wall and pushed to her feet with some effort. "I'll be right back."

"I don't doubt it." Hope's voice was barely there. He cracked a wan smile as he huddled against the wall, shivering in the bloodied cloak, and it tore at her heart.

_God… Why him?_

Lightning covered her mouth, took a bracing breath, and strode over to the circle of moonlight. Gazing up through the open ceiling, she raised her flare and fired it into the clouded sky.

* * *

It was nearly sunrise when Snow and Sazh finally came into view near the cave entrance, both of them looking beaten down by the wilderness with their muddy, disheveled clothes and brooding faces. Sazh had all manner of twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair, and Snow's arms were covered in scratches.

At the sight of Lightning coming out of the cavern, Snow's mouth fell open and he charged forward.

"Holy Etro, Sis," he started, gradually taking in the amount of blood on her clothing and face. "Must've been a slaughterhouse up there."

"No. It was a single kill." Lightning gestured for the hooded cultist to come around with Hope, ordering plainly, "Hand him over to my friend and go. Make sure the rest of the _former_ New Order understands that I've declared the cult disbanded. They'll meet their leader's fate if they come anywhere near us."

Dorian nodded and did as he was told, immediately disappearing back into the cave without a word. Snow went pale at the sight of Hope's cloaked, bloody form that had landed in his arms, belatedly recognizing who it was. Hope's expression was empty when he pushed the hood back.

"H-hey, kid…?" Snow stammered, trying to gauge Hope's state through all the gore. Sazh looked horrified as well, but his first reaction was to heave into the nearest bush.

In the watery pre-dawn light, the blackened blood stood out prominently against Hope's white cloak and skin. They were nearly in equal parts.

Lightning had to shove down another eerie reminder of Bhunivelze's checkered horror.

She brushed past Snow, still struggling to keep her heart from being wrung out at the sight of Hope. "At least he's alive," she said, her voice completely flat after so much physical and emotional exertion. "They tortured him, but the wounds are superficial."

She had never felt so numb. The only thing pushing her body forward was her clinging determination to get Hope home. Snow, on the other hand, had clenched his teeth, either fighting back tears or the urge to punch a boulder. Tension pulsed in the air around him.

"Let's go," Lightning directed, waving a hand weakly at the downward slope ahead. "I still have to disinfect everything, and I need to get more gauze..."

She misjudged her dragging steps and stumbled on a tree root. Behind her, she heard Hope gasp and cry, "Light, watch out—!"

As she careened forward, Sazh caught her by the arm. He pulled her upright and offered a supportive shoulder.

"Think you've had enough for one night, missy."

"I…" she started to say, her chest suddenly clenching. Tears flooded her vision without warning as a round of sobs wracked her body. She covered her mouth and tried to hold it in, to dam up the rising tide of raw emotion, but Sazh just patted her back and waited while she battled with herself.

Eventually, it subsided, and Lightning sucked in a few gulps of air.

"I-I had to kill Cid," she said hoarsely. "And I wanted to kill them all. If it meant saving Hope…" She faltered, her voice nearly a whisper.

"I would've done anything."

_And he would do the same, for me._

"Join the club," Snow inserted. He shifted his burden into a comfortable position and took the lead. "I've sent more than a few people limping off for Hope's sake, and those were the lucky ones."

"Ugh, Snow…" Hope rasped. "Don't talk about that."

Something in his casual reassurance actually helped, though. Lightning's chest loosened, and her stomach stopped trying to turn itself inside out.

She wanted to accept that the worst had passed.


	10. Stains

"Snow, _please_ hold him still."

Lightning huffed and tried to align the needle with Hope's arm again, still a bit baffled that he wasn't keen on taking the sedative when he was clearly in pain. The medicine Sazh had procured from Vanille's stash only took the edge off, and there was little chance he'd return with anything better from the clinic across town.

They had barely managed to remove Hope's shirt – the stretching movements at his joints tore open multiple incisions, and trying to unstick the hastily applied gauze dressings was proving to be hell.

_Damn it, we're never going to get all these cuts cleaned—_

Hope squirmed and hissed a bit in protest, and as she came into closer range he jerked against Snow's grip.

"Please," he begged, his voice still in pieces, "You can't just wake me up if I go under! I don't want to-to—"

"To sleep?" Lightning cut in brusquely, beyond exhausted as well. She held his chin and met his gaze. "Hope, you need rest, and we need to treat these cuts before something gets infected."

Silent tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes. "Then just treat them! This is better… It's better than being trapped in a nightmare. I can take it. I want to take it."

_But I don't think_ I _can._

He couldn't even take a deep breath without wincing, thanks in part to a large bruise on his lower ribcage. With a sigh, Lightning raked her sticky bangs out of her face and sat back on her haunches. "Alright. Snow, take him to the shower, will you?"

Panic drained Hope's face and flooded his eyes. "No, wait, Light—!" he croaked, gripping her hand like a lifeline.

Snow had to pry his fingers free. Gathering his bloodied limbs, he hefted Hope from his place on the rug. "Just hang tight, buddy. She's not going anywhere, got it?"

Hope nodded against his chest, but it still took him a minute or so to stop shuddering and relax enough for Lightning to do the same. She felt the release of tension in her neck once they disappeared into the bathroom, where she could no longer track the tormented look on his face.

Instead, she fixated on the ruined towels spread over the rug, imprinted with broken lines from the blood that had seeped through his pants. It would be easier to see and treat the clean cuts once they washed away the residual mess. Taken along with the wounds in plain sight, the stains on his borrowed clothes indicated that he had active incisions along all four limbs, at every major joint, and crisscrossing his torso.

As Lightning's gaze fell to her lap, her own filthy hands came into focus; dirt and blood had caked itself over a number of blisters from her mountainside trek and her sloppy, overly aggressive swordsmanship. She picked up the tube of antibiotic ointment, absently rolling it from the end to make sure they made use of every drop. One of her finger joints suddenly popped in protest and she dropped the tube, cursing under her breath.

Her hands were sore. Honestly, everything ached – one of the loudest complainants being her right shoulder. Lightning heaved a sigh and buried her grimy face in her hands.

She acknowledged, with a heavy heart, that she didn't have the strength to fight through Hope's ordeal on his terms. Ultimately, they would have to use the drug. She was already going to be forced to trust Snow with some very delicate work, and that did not sit well with her.

Even if he was unconscious, Lightning guessed that Hope would appreciate some respect for his dignity. Snow would at least be able to handle the challenge of applying tricky bandages without a writhing, howling subject.

That still left the more daunting challenge of administering the shot. However much Hope feared his subconscious, a limited bout of nightmares couldn't hold a candle to the prospect of nasty infections in the long-term.

And he wasn't going to heal without sleep, either way.

Lightning determined that she had only a single chance to pull it off – with the element of surprise. Taking up the syringe, she slowly got to her feet and posted just beside the bathroom door, waiting for the opportune moment.

_I can do this. I have to do this._

Snow's indistinct voice drifted through the door as he chattered over the sound of splattering water, but she could only hear occasional, scratchy cries of pain on Hope's part.

A few minutes later, the water cut off.

"Don't we—ah! Ow…" Hope groaned, clearly having a rough time getting out of the shower. "Don't we have a towel?"

"Oh yeah," Snow said thoughtfully. "Think we used all of 'em out there on the rug. Wait here, I got this."

Lightning jumped aside as he barged out the door, in so much of a hurry that he didn't even bother closing it.

"Snow, the door!" Hope croaked in obvious mortification.

"Sorry, little bro! Just a sec," Snow called back, trying to pick the least soiled towel from the floor. "Damn, these things are all bloody now…"

Lightning sighed and rubbed between her eyebrows, still slouching against the wall just outside. "Hope, I'm _not_ looking. It's common decency."

"Thanks," he said softly. "Not that it really matters. You already know I look like a ritual sacrifice. _And_ you know I'm some sort of half-god freak. I probably don't deserve common decency."

Lightning tightened her grip around the syringe and ground out, "Damn it, stop saying things like that!"

_Ugh, I really can't do this._

Just at that moment, Snow approached with his chosen towel, and she snatched it from his hand. She ignored his slack-jawed stare when she dropped the syringe into his empty palm instead and whipped toward the door.

"I'll calm him down," she muttered in passing. "But it's your turn to talk some sense into him."

Inside, Hope had somehow managed to stand. He was dripping on the bath rug, his palms pressed against one of the tiled walls for support. He only briefly glanced at her over his shoulder, his face burning scarlet.

"I-I thought you just said—"

"You pissed me off," Lightning huffed, wrapping the towel around his waist from behind. She carefully turned him around, tucked the towel more securely in place, and helped him sit on the rug opposite her. "I didn't drag you out of that hell-hole for you to buy in to their lies."

"But the part about Bhunivelze wasn't—"

"I don't care." Lightning cupped his cheek with one hand and brushed the wet tendrils of hair out of his face with her free fingers. She inspected the only incisions in that area – small ones near his hairline and ears, though they had bled a good amount. One still sent an oozing trail down his jaw and neck.

Hope tried to wipe it away, leaving a bright red smear. He swallowed thickly and met her eyes. "You should. What if he's the reason I feel this…" He stalled, his voice nearly dropping out. "This… attachment to you?"

"Damn it all, Hope," Lightning said under her breath, laughing dryly. She gathered him into a light embrace. "The feeling's mutual. He doesn't get any of the credit for that."

His fingers found a loose grip on the back of her tank top, and he smiled against her neck. "He thinks you deserve a good shower, though."

Lightning growled. "Shut up and close your eyes. You should rest a minute, at least."

"Fine, fine."

From behind his back, Lightning raised a hand to gesture at Snow, where he still waited near the doorway.

Hope cracked an eye open at Snow's approach, turning to glare at the perceived intruder.

"Aw, don't look so happy to see me," Snow jibed. He squatted on the floor and raised his hands in a gesture of penitence, openly displaying the syringe.

Hope pushed back from Lightning and crossed his arms, wincing in spite of the clear irritation on his face.

"I already said I'd rather take the pain. What makes you think you have a better chance of talking me into that sedative?" he challenged.

"Because I know you're a lot less of a selfish asshole than you're acting right now," Snow said coolly. "Especially to her." He gestured at Lightning, who could only stare back in shock and confusion.

_Where is he going with this?_

"You're really gonna put her through that? Trying to patch you up while you cry and squirm?"

Hope coughed, suddenly absorbed in the frayed hem of the towel. Lightning opened her mouth to interject, but Snow raised his empty hand for silence.

"Don't you dare make excuses for him," Snow said with a sigh, redirecting his icy gaze onto Hope. He pointed sharply at Lightning. " _Look_ at her. She's a wreck. Probably because she's been awake for over twenty-four hours, hiked up a mountain and navigated a cave system. She had to fight and kill someone for the chance to hike back down that mountain with you. And now, you're telling me – no, you're telling _her_ – that _you've_ decided she's gotta fight to put on your bandages, too?"

Hope raised his head again, his watery eyes searching her weary, grubby face for a long moment before he dropped them to his lap. Several tears fell to the towel.

"Forgive me," he said. "You're right. I'll take the shot."

His hands clenched in nervous anticipation, so Lightning reached out to loosen and hold them.

"You'll wake up soon," she promised. "I'll still be here."

Hope nodded once, his gaze fixed on their hands while Snow administered the sedative. Lightning pulled him in before he could slump forward, and she felt his body go limp moments later.

"I'm sorry," Lightning whispered. She didn't move a muscle for a full minute, except to tighten her grip around him and kiss the top of his head.

Snow still squatted on the floor, rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. "Hey, Sis?" he started in. "Can I, y'know… take him back now? He's still bleeding, and there's the antibiotic and the bandages in there…"

"Yes," she said. "You can take him."

As he lifted the burden, Lightning stared down at her empty arms.

"Snow, do you think we did the right thing?"

"Doesn't matter," he said easily, already leaving the bathroom. "We didn't really have a choice."

They spent some time in silence, arranging the supplies, cutting gauze strips in the proper lengths, and working on the incisions covering Hope's upper body first. As Snow handed off another strip to Lightning for the wound running down the center of Hope's chest, he cleared his throat.

"Weird as it sounds, I'm kinda glad we're both stuck like this. There's a lot of… Well, just stuff I need to tell you," he stammered, and Lightning snapped her eyes to his face, narrowing them at his uncertainty.

"What kind of stuff?"

_If you've knocked up my sister again, I swear—_

"About Hope," Snow clarified. His brow furrowed as he concentrated on bandaging a shoulder incision. "I knew him pretty well, back on Nova Chrysalia. Up until he disappeared, anyway. I always figured you had a bunch of questions I could answer, but we never do get the time to talk like this."

Lightning secured her own gauze strip with adhesive tape, trying to ignore the uneasiness in her gut at his accurate assessment. "What makes you think I'm so out of the loop in the first place?"

"Well, for starters, you didn't believe Bhunivelze had a part in his, uh… obsession with you, I guess," Snow stuttered. "Either you were lying to make him feel better, or you just don't know the whole story."

She shrugged and replied, "It's a little bit of both. Back in the cave, Hope admitted something about Bhunivelze using me against him. I still don't know _how_. But that doesn't mean I think some emotionless god ever had a thing for me. He was just on a power trip, where he imagined me as a perfect goddess to serve his purposes." She stopped for a moment and flexed her aching fingers, considering whether she could trust Snow with the remaining personal information.

_What the hell does it matter, at this point? Like he said, he knew the real Hope._

Lightning focused on contouring a gauze strip to Hope's collarbone, where one bloody slice had replaced the scar she distantly remembered. She could never have guessed it was part of a matched set. His breathing had become so shallow that she stopped her work, moving her fingers up to check the pulse on his neck. She found its slow rhythm and released a sigh.

"I don't want Hope to think his feelings have anything to do with Bhunivelze. If he does, he might…" Lightning tried to explain, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "He might reject them."

"Damn," Snow said, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. He dropped the bandage he was trimming and planted his hands on his thighs, giving her a slight but thoroughly amused smile.

"You've really got it bad, huh?"

Lightning glared at him, blushing furiously. "Don't say it like that."

"Well hey," Snow added, chuckling, "I'm just impressed. Kid's not even in his final form. A real lady-killer, that one."

" _Snow!_ "

_Etro, the layers of_ wrong _in that statement…_

"Oh, c'mon," he scoffed, dodging the antibiotic tube she chucked at his head. "Quit acting like you oughtta be above human attraction."

"Clearly, I'm not _above_ anything!" Lightning fired back, feeling more ashamed than angry. She clenched the excess gauze in her hand until her knuckles turned white. "What the hell kind of woman takes advantage of—? I-I mean he was just— Ugh, I can't even say it!" she growled, flinging the gauze aside. She slumped forward and covered her face in misery.

"He's too damn vulnerable."

Snow's jaw dropped open. It took him several seconds to come back to himself. Finally, he scratched the back of his head and stammered, "So, er… _that's_ what's eating you? I mean, we all know Hope's kind of been in love with you for a few lifetimes—"

" _I_ didn't know that!" she snapped. "I've had my suspicions, but I never had the chance to get to know him like I should've. Not the _real_ Hope. Since you're so keen on running your big mouth, though, maybe you could use it to give me some of that promised backstory."

"You're not gonna like it," Snow muttered. He attached part of one strip across Hope's ribcage and carefully rolled him onto his stomach to finish wrapping it around the back.

Lightning got to work on the sticky spinal incision. "Just get it over with."

"A'right. It's not exactly comprehensive, though. I didn't see much of Hope for maybe a century, right up to the time he went off the grid," Snow began, directing Lightning to turn around while he dealt with the collection of wounds around the pelvic region. She complied, staring off at the fireplace while he droned on, the only other sound an occasional tearing of tape strips.

"He'd been holed up inside his New Cocoon doing research on the Chaos, long after everyone left. But there toward the end – I'd say that last couple of decades or so before he vanished – he would drop by Yusnaan at random times, just to hang out."

Lightning quirked an eyebrow. "He wanted to 'hang out' with you?"

"Yeah, I thought it was a little strange, too," Snow admitted. "Not that we weren't still in touch, but Hope was always ridiculously busy with his project. I knew a cry for help when I saw one."

"Did he explain himself?" Lightning pressed.

Snow chuckled bitterly. "Eventually, yeah. I still feel sorta guilty about letting him drink that much. He said some of the craziest shit I've ever heard. So crazy I thought he was getting a little delusional up there by himself. But every time he'd drop by, we'd end up drinking and he'd spout more of the same old story."

"What story?" Lightning sat up straight, fighting to keep from turning around and shaking the information out of Snow.

He exhaled, long and slow. "About seeing you. Or something that looked and sounded like you. He called it a phantom for a while, but that… changed. I think he hit a point where he really couldn't tell, anymore. That, or he stopped caring. He must've come back to himself at the very end, though, because the last we ever heard from him was a digital message – a warning to watch out for the fake Lightning."

"The _fake_ me?" Lightning almost whispered, those words raising the hair on the back of her neck. She could easily recall the way her heart was crushed when her Serah turned out to be nothing more than a very convincing doll. And that was after minimal interaction with the imitation and Lumina's warnings that Serah was not what she seemed. To be haunted by such a being, alone, constantly tormented by questions of whether it was true or even possible…

Her own mind would have cracked.

It was suddenly quite clear why Hope couldn't help but be overjoyed that she was her real, flawed self. He was afraid of that fake persona – even physically threatened by it.

_What the hell did that thing do to him?_

Snow tapped her on the shoulder, bringing Lightning out of her horrible thoughts. When she turned halfway around, he was watching her with intense concern.

"Sis, are you okay?"

Lightning let her gaze fall to Hope's completely expressionless face. A stream of tears drained from the corner of his eye, but he remained unmoving, helpless to escape the monsters that lurked inside his mind.

"No," she choked out. "No, _no_ …" If she could have possibly described the sensation within her body, it felt like her soul was slowly breaking into pieces. She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face in her arms – a vain attempt to hold everything together.

_When is this_ ever _going to end?_

* * *

After Sazh had delivered another batch of mediocre painkillers and Snow eventually left, Lightning bled off every remaining ounce of energy mentally picking apart Hope's new state of being. She showered and changed under the weight of those thoughts, and soon collapsed into a dreamless sleep, lying an arm's length away from him on the rug. She assumed that Hope would wake her with the usual panic that followed his nightmares.

In actuality, she awoke to a gentle shake several hours later. She cracked open her sleep-encrusted eyes to the dim firelight.

Hope was watching her in the near-darkness, the glow in his eyes more than mere reflection of the flames. The sight made her blood run cold. He sat perfectly still, already wearing a pair of sweats instead of the towel and holding a cup of tea.

He offered it to her. "This is yours."

_God, how long has he been up?_

She quickly pushed her aching body into a mostly-propped position and raked her tangled hair out of her eyes.

"I—Thanks," she said, shakily accepting the cup. "How are you feeling?"

"Strange," Hope admitted, finally bothering to blink. "I honestly thought I was in for an all-out battle with Bhunivelze when I went under, but it turns out he's made himself comfortable in my subconscious. He was just _sitting_ there with this smug grin. And I have to say that worries me."

Lightning rubbed at the crusts in her eyes. Her mind crackled to alertness and set her heart racing over ominous possibilities, but she was nowhere near ready to leap into action. She wasn't sure if an effective action even existed.

_Maybe that damned god already got the submission he was after._

"Any idea what he has in mind?" she asked wearily.

Hope shook his head. "I can't say for sure. He could be feeling cocky about how Cid's plan failed to eradicate him. Or maybe he's just pleased to have established his new throne room in closer proximity to you. Of course, if that's the case, I know what I have to do next."

Lightning straightened up and looked him in the eye, but she could not get a read on his intentions. Her intuition set off alarms in her ears.

"And what is that?"

"I have to neutralize the threat," Hope replied, still unmoving. "Not now, and not tomorrow, but as soon as I've recovered. I have to get Bhunivelze away from you and figure out what he's really after. He wants something from me – that much is obvious."

"He wants control," Lightning interjected. "You knew what was written in that note you threw away, didn't you? 'Submit yourself to me'?"

Hope cringed and broke eye contact, only to stare at his bandaged right palm. "I see you put Yeul's talents to good use. But you're correct – I could read it. I just couldn't tell if he meant it for me, or you, or both of us. In any case, it terrified me. It's one more reason I have to make sure I've got the will power to keep him under control."

"Clearly, you do," Lightning sighed, taking a sip of her tea when nothing else seemed appropriate. "You're not going bat-shit insane on me – I'd call that a good sign."

Hope tilted his head at her in clear puzzlement. "Who said Bhunivelze was bat-shit insane?"

"Well, he tried to destroy you, and then me, along the way to destroying everyone and everything else," Lightning deadpanned. "I think it goes without saying."

Hope shrugged. "Before he had that breakdown in battle – which was mostly the effect of my emotions – he was very collected. He crafted some truly evil schemes and made us all his pawns, but he didn't go insane."

"Thanks for that clarification," Lightning retorted, eyes narrowed. "Can I speak to the real Hope, now, or is he still asleep?"

A wrinkle of hurt formed between his brows, and the brilliance in his eyes seemed to dim. "Light, this _is_ me." Hope looked down, gingerly probing the bandages that stretched over half of his skin.

"Do you really think I'm not here?" he pleaded, catching up her hand in desperation. He kissed it once and asked her, "Do I need to prove it?"

Lightning opened her mouth but could not find words, confounded at the sudden shift from his detached self to the one before her now. For the moment, she determined to rationalize everything through the lens of trauma.

"No, you don't need to prove anything," she assured him. She set her teacup aside and leaned in to kiss his forehead. His hold on her hand relaxed, and he allowed her to lower him carefully onto the rug again. Lightning hovered there, securing loose edges on some of the bandages.

"You don't need to worry about running off for my sake, either. Just focus on getting better, alright?"

"Alright." Hope lay still but never diverted his eyes from her face. "I'll get better first. Then I'll do what has to be done."

"Don't say that," Lightning muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"You want me to lie to you?"

"I want you to be okay!"

"There are requirements, for that to be possible. But I'll drop the subject." Hope closed his eyes, alleviating some of the tightness in her chest. Lightning _knew_ that ethereal glow and could not shake her misgivings.

When he neither spoke nor moved for a dragging stretch of seconds, she mechanically checked his pulse.

He smirked at the gesture, his eyes fluttering open.

"If I haven't died yet, I don't think it's in the cards for me tonight," Hope said with a chuckle.

And at the unceremonious growl of his stomach, which seemed to echo through the room, she couldn't help but laugh along with him.

_Gods don't get hungry, the last time I checked._

"Priority one," Lightning declared, planting a sudden kiss to his mouth before she pushed herself upright, "I find us some food."

* * *

Hope sat ramrod straight in his chair. At his right, Lightning could see the trickle of sweat down his temple and the nervous drumming of his fingers on his leg. Bartholomew and Nora stared back at him from across the table, utterly silent as their son finished explaining himself. Snow and Serah, the only other two dinner guests, had opted to concentrate on their soup.

"Mom, please don't be upset," Hope tacked on, when everyone seemed unwilling to comment. "I thought you'd worry if you knew I was working on a project site instead of sitting in school, especially with an injury involved – even if it was minor." He automatically raised his bandaged palm with a weak half-smile. "And you were already concerned about the cult activity in town, so… "

_Where the hell is he going with this, anyway?_

Lightning could only assume that Hope's mother had attributed his strange behavior to his 'recovery.' His absence from the previous weekend's dinner had been excused under the guise of a brief illness, and his parents opted to invite his friends to an appreciative meal for taking care of their son.

Well-intentioned as it was, the dinner had just become a forum for Hope to break a small, carefully selected amount of news to Nora. Lightning had a sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Estheim anticipated something more disturbing than a confession to project work in place of school, and she was immensely relieved that he hadn't taken any of those routes.

"I'm not upset, dear. I've known you were up to something for a while, now. Mother's intuition," Nora replied with a small grin. "You and your father put on a good show, I'll admit."

Bartholomew relaxed his features for a moment, mirroring his wife. "Did you expect anything less? I've perfected the Sanctum face." He locked his expression into a serious mask and pointed to the basket of rolls.

"Your performance this evening has been lackluster. Butter should be a factor of excellence, not a requirement for mediocrity."

Excepting Hope, his audience couldn't help but chuckle at the impression.

"Point taken, but I didn't see it coming from our son," Nora remarked, redirecting her attention to Hope. "I suppose a few hundred years of experience was enough to remove that heart from your sleeve. Now, could you pass the salt?"

Hope looked about ready to levitate the salt, from where Lightning sat. How Nora could dismiss the intensity of her son's concentration was beyond her. Then again, the sadness around his mother's eyes belied her cool response.

Suddenly back to himself with a shake of his head, Hope blinked and gently pushed the saltshaker toward his mother.

"Sorry. I know it's probably confusing, and a lot to digest."

"Eh, it's not the end of the world," Snow casually supplied. He slurped down another spoonful of the soup. "Now _that_ was news."

Serah shot him a side-glare that was immediately diffused by their daughter's screech from the floor, where she played with a cast-off shoe.

"Son, about this railway project," Bartholomew inserted, adjusting his glasses as he smoothly connected their interrupted conversation. "Are they keeping you on for the long term? I just have to wonder if it's the best alternative to council involvement—"

"Not an issue," Hope cut in. He clapped his spoon to the table. "The council will never consider accepting me unless I make a name for myself, as an adult. I'll do more good by working on this project for now, in any capacity. In fact, the next survey team has been recruiting volunteers."

Lightning stirred her soup in slow, anxious circles. "Survey team? I thought Sazh had you on logistics."

"Oh yeah," Snow remarked, cracking a grin as he pointed a butter knife in Hope's direction. "Pretty sure I recommended you to that position, actually."

"Not that I didn't appreciate it, but plans change," Hope countered. He turned his focus to Lightning, a noticeable weight behind his gaze. "If Sazh needs more surveyors, I'm willing to assist. I owe him that much."

"But you… just…" Lightning faltered, clearing her throat and snatching for an appropriate explanation that did not involve a reference to his more extensive injuries. "Do you think you're prepared for survey work?"

Hope blinked at her in utter disbelief. "What did you think the Academy was up to, poking around in those ruins? I've spent over half my life on survey and research. They're the bread and butter of any serious scientist."

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" Serah asked, smiling to cover her obvious discomfort. It was the next logical question, but no one wanted to ask for fear of the likely unpleasant news.

Hope's hesitation multiplied the tension tenfold. He tapped his index finger on the side of his soup bowl in a slow, methodical rhythm.

"I'm not sure," he said. "It depends on what we find, and whether we have time to circle back before winter. Once a post is established out there, some of us will have to stay behind – I'd imagine those without children or similar obligations."

Bartholomew had lost all interest in his soup, the only factor betraying his unease behind an otherwise collected mask. "I suppose being a minor yourself doesn't count?"

"Didn't count for joining the team," Lightning muttered.

Hope pointedly ignored the aside. "It's already settled, even with the master cartographer's blessing. The team is scheduled to leave before the month is up."

"I don't suppose you'll be going as well, will you, Lightning?" Nora asked suddenly, her tone surprisingly hopeful.

Lightning had to question the level of his mother's mounting worry for her to actually _want_ them together. She couldn't blame the woman. She was at least as worried herself, but for plenty of other reasons.

"This was a first-heard," Lightning said flatly. "I don't think I'm invited."

_He really is running from me, isn't he?_

Hope fiddled with the end of the sleeve cuff around his wrist, trying to explain, "I only found out about it yesterday, Light. I'm not in charge of the team, and it would be rude to just ask others along. They've chosen their own security detail."

"I'd like to know who's assigned to that detail, then," she insisted.

"And do what? Run their names through the New Order's most wanted database?" Hope challenged, crossing his arms. "I believe that's the council's jurisdiction, now."

Snow scratched his stubbly chin in thought. "Hmph, that's right. Not making much headway, but all this negative attention's got the New Order tucking tail. I'm just worried they might make a resurgence. There's no telling with a bunch of single-minded obsessed people, especially without a leader calling the shots."

"That loss was both necessary and unfortunate," Bartholomew remarked solemnly. "Given the agenda Raines had been pushing, things could only have gotten worse. But without him, we know next to nothing about the New Order's intentions. I was hoping we might come to some agreement on how to proceed at Tuesday's audience – it may have just been too soon."

Lightning had to respect the man's self-control. Not every father could hold it together after what he'd inadvertently found out mere days before, thanks to his council position. Hope's harrowing experience had been the prime factor behind her actions and had to be disclosed, along with witness accounts from Snow and Sazh. She supposed the perpetrator's demise took the edge off, at least.

"Well, we know one thing for certain," Hope added as he picked at a dinner roll, finally setting it aside and resting his chin in his good hand. "They'd listen to Light's directive. She could tell them to collectively jump off a cliff, and I'd be willing to bet they would do it."

"Hope!" Nora gasped, her eyes briefly widening in shock. "That's a terrible thing to suggest, no matter what they've done."

_Oh, if you only knew what they did to your precious boy,_ Lightning mused, pushing back against her dark thoughts.

Unfazed, Hope straightened the silverware beside his plate into perfect alignment. "I'm not suggesting that they should do anything like that, I'm just saying that Lightning has the power to sway them however she sees fit."

"Sure, since they've always heeded my warnings before," Lightning snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Or since they've done a bang-up job of disbanding the cult since my _last_ demand."

It failed to ruffle Hope, though his parents, Serah, and Snow were all biting their tongues or fidgeting nervously for several charged seconds.

"There's a difference," Hope said, pausing for a sip of water, "between threatening consequences and appealing to them as the Savior. The majority of them haven't received guidance directly from you, they've just heard second-hand information and probably ignored it."

Likely against his better judgment, Snow chipped in, "He's got a point, Sis. Their leader died in front of a grand total of four witnesses – I wouldn't be surprised if half the membership just sees it as a sign to double up efforts."

"So I'm supposed to cater to the needs of this cult, now?" Lightning clenched her hands around the napkin on her lap and ground out, "I'm not the Savior anymore, and I don't owe these people anything after what they've done."

The growing, conflict-fueled tension made little Claire begin to tune up, her mournful cries rising from where she clung to Serah's chair leg, and Lightning saw it as an opportunity to escape.

Pushing back from her own chair, she muttered a quick, "Excuse me," snatched Claire up from the floor, and stalked out of the dining room.

"Sis, you don't have to—" she heard Serah calling after her, but Lightning pressed forward and eventually settled on the large living room rug with her grateful niece. The toddler happily staggered around the room from sofa to chair to table, leaving decorative throw pillows in her wake.

For the moment, Lightning was content with the therapeutic motions of trailing after the child and reordering her chaos.

_I wish it was this simple, to undo what these cultists have done. They're not children, though – they should know better!_

_But I guess it's the herd mentality, making them act like idiots. Would they really do_ anything _I asked, if I pretended to be their Savior and addressed them all?_

Truth be told, she didn't want to care. Lightning didn't want to address or acknowledge the struggles of an organization that inflicted both psychological pain and physical wounds upon Hope – the ones she inspected every day, changing bandages as needed. A part of her still wanted them all to pay.

At least until Hope's suffering, and her own dilemma with it, had ended.

"Light?"

His soft voice was suddenly at her left – she'd missed his arrival through the fog of her thoughts. He caught her arm as she passed the recliner.

"Light, I'm sorry," Hope said, his eyes darting from her face to the floor before he slowly bent down to collect the next couple of pillows, wincing from the initial pull on his bandaged joints. "I mean it. I shouldn't have tried to force your hand, the council just seemed so desperate to find a solution. I know you saw their faces, and I thought you'd at least had time to consider their proposal."

She sighed and gently pulled him up to face her. "Look, when you're right, you're just too damn right. I _know_ I'll have to suck it up and give some speech to the masses, or they'll never stop this cult nonsense. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Hope ran a hand through his hair and dropped his gaze again. "I'm also sorry about springing the survey team news on you. I wanted to tell you last night, I just…" He took a deep breath, looked her in the eye and brought a hand to her cheek, tracing his thumb across her lower lip.

"I couldn't do it."

Lightning's eyes flitted to the dining room doorway and back again, wary of observers. "Why not? You know it's safer to let me process things like that in my own house."

"Because you were happy," Hope clarified, smiling sadly. "And I knew I wouldn't get to have that much longer. For a little while, it felt like things were back to normal."

"Define normal," Lightning scoffed. She pressed her hand to the back of his, refusing to respond further as her heart rate began its steady climb.

_How exactly did we get this close? I've got to lock it down—_

A heavy thump jarred both of them from the moment. Lightning turned to the sound and bounded toward Claire as the toddler continued her rampage, pulling books off a nearby shelf. Hope laughed and followed behind.

"Oh my god!" Serah cried, skittering footsteps announcing her arrival. "Sis, what was that noise?"

Lightning wrangled her niece and huffed in aggravation, leaving Hope to replace the books on their shelves.

"Just Claire's idea of a wakeup call," he said.

* * *

Lightning glared down at the dim insignia on her chest, clenching her fingers around it. The Equilibrium garb had seen better days, but she couldn't have cared less. She really did want to soak the accursed thing in kerosene and torch it.

"Damn it," she grumbled as she paced the living room again. "Damn it, why do I have to do this?"

"Because our favorite cult still has a dangerous power vacuum," Hope surmised, coming into view in the bedroom doorway sporting her frequently stolen sweats. The bulk of his clothes were in a final wash load before Monday's departure. He'd had less than a month to heal – just enough time to leave shrinking scab lines over the web of his original scars.

Not that anyone else saw them since their council audience. In spite of the heat, he'd worn pants and long-sleeved shirts for every sort of outing, from work to simple dinners.

His mother might never know. The others all knew, but they wouldn't dare bring up what had happened.

Lightning just wanted him to normalize, even though she acknowledged, somewhere in the darkest corner of her mind, that his new normal was not going to be what she expected.

Very expectedly, however, his mind was razor-sharp since the fog had fully lifted from his memories. Hope continued to suggest that she make a public appearance with the leaderless New Order, dropping his own recovery and impending departure to a lower priority rung. A number of townspeople, and the council members in particular, acknowledged that the cult had been getting dangerously out of hand before Lightning ousted its leader. No one wanted a repeat or worsening of the situation.

Various council initiatives toward settlement security still hadn't made significant progress to that end, though, as the Order's membership remained in hiding. Everyone stood to win if the cult disbanded, and that only seemed possible by her direction. Ultimately, an agreement was made pending her decision on a date.

She promptly spent a couple of weeks procrastinating. Hope pushed every possible button in the interim.

"I sent them a message," Lightning snapped at his observation. "They know I mean business, which is why they're making themselves scarce! I can't see how a stirring speech will do any better."

Hope rested his head against the doorframe and watched her impassively. "I didn't mean for you to put the fear of god in them – believe me, they have that. Just talk to them. They did terrible things for a misguided purpose, but they still revere you. If you give them positive guidance, they'll fix themselves."

Lightning rounded on him, the lingering hurt still stinging her eyes when she exclaimed, "They don't deserve the chance! Don't you even care that they tried to sacrifice you?"

"They failed," Hope replied evenly. "People tried to kill me long before I was tied up with a god. If I were the New Order, or even humanity as a whole, I would've wanted Bhunivelze dead, too. But now, it's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't hurt you, or anyone else. It's all our responsibility to make sure people stop hurting each other, starting with this cult."

"Hope, I don't need a lecture—"

"Then don't ask me if I care. You _know_ how I feel," Hope fired back, stepping up to grab her crossed arms. "If I'd stopped caring about humanity when they rejected me in the past, we would all be dead."

Sighing heavily, she let her arms fall and dropped her forehead to his shoulder.

"Enough. Just tell me today is over."

"Light," he laughed, petting her hair, "You have to leave the house, first. I can't talk to them for you. I'm not the Savior."

"Could've fooled me," Lightning muttered. She tickled his ribs and sent him staggering backward. Hope rested against the wall to catch his breath, his smile not quite reflected in his eyes. It was still preferable to the slight, unsettling glow visible in them at night.

"You'll get what you deserve, someday," she assured him.

Hope shrugged. "What I deserve is irrelevant and subjective. I already have what I want," he said, but he suddenly blushed and corrected himself. "I-I mean, mostly. In a sense…"

A swell of questions rose up in her chest again. "So this is more of what you wanted at twenty-seven?"

"And fourteen," he added, running his right hand along the marks on his left arm. He took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff, pure determination flashing through his eyes when he raised them again, overshadowing all else. "And twenty-four. I had proof of your survival in the oracle drive, which was more than I'd dreamed possible. I _thought_ I'd finally found you at twenty-seven, but… I was mistaken."

Lightning quirked an eyebrow, asking pointedly, "Did you ever plan on telling me about my doppelganger? You haven't said a word about it since I mentioned Snow's tale of the phantom, but I know there's more to the story."

"Of course," Hope agreed, clearing his throat. "The issue has never been 'is there more,' just whether I felt like I could get it out right, I guess."

Her mind propelled her into the recent past over a blur of microseconds. His defensive words, knee-jerk reactions, and nightmares alike pointed toward the answer lurking in the shadows.

" _Don't… Don't touch me."_

A chill crept over her skin at the recollection. Lightning solidified her stance across from him – partially to convey her seriousness, but more to brace herself. She had a fair idea where his account might lead.

"I still want the whole story," she reiterated. "I want to understand."

"Do I really need to spell it out?" Hope said. He leaned his head back against the wall and looked to the ceiling, as if reading a past written there. "What would you have done, if the one person you wanted to see more than anyone else in the world suddenly appeared? If she kept coming and going on the edges of your vision, whispering in your ear, invading your dreams, until… She was right there, in the flesh? Not quite what you expected, but infinitely more than you'd seen in centuries."

Her heart pounded in her ears. It was fear arresting her senses, and Lightning opened her mouth to interrupt but found her throat had sealed. She had started it, and Hope was going to finish it. He pressed his fingertips against the wall, squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled.

"It's simple. You'd do anything she wanted," he continued, his voice frighteningly calm. "If she touched you, you'd give in and ignore the little voice screaming in your head that something was wrong. Then she'd move closer, kiss you, say she loved you, and the little voice would get quieter until it finally just… stopped."

Lightning was dumbstruck. She froze in place, watching Hope steady himself with several breaths before he opened his eyes. They were dark, heavy with the emotional tonnage of guilt, shame, loneliness and regret – every last one of her demons. She wanted to hold him until those things disappeared.

But that instinctively felt like the wrong move. The Hope before her, the literal hope of humanity, had a broken compass – it was scrambled by her sheer magnetic force. Bhunivelze had affixed her in the sky like a bright planet, and Hope could no longer find due north.

The last pieces of his past had fallen into place, exposing his vulnerabilities to the blinding spotlight of revelation. Standing at the fringe of that light, Lightning saw only the stains on herself.

"Light, why are you looking at me like that?" Hope asked, his voice breaking. He pushed off the wall and reached toward her. "It wasn't you. I know it had nothing to do with you…"

"I-I have to go," Lightning stammered in haste, running for the door. She couldn't face him for another second. She couldn't face herself.

_I have to make this right._

* * *

Lightning's lungs were burning by the time she reached the town square, but she didn't stop until the Savior statue loomed directly ahead, staring her down in its intimidating pose. A throng of armband-wearing followers had already gathered on the site. They parted for her to pass, leaving a wide path to the statue's base.

She had the long, nerve-wracking walk to catch her breath. Finally at her stony destination, she perched on its edge, and the people took seats on the cobblestones. Countless pairs of expectant eyes stared up at her – frightened, confused or awestruck, they had come out of the woodwork for this single appearance. She swallowed over her suddenly parched throat.

"Everyone," Lightning said, finding her voice as she straightened her shoulders, "I'm here to set some things straight. Many of you have already heard my directive to disband the New Order, but I think you all deserve an explanation."

The crowd seemed to be collectively holding its breath.

"Your late leader, Cid Raines, had to be eliminated because he refused to listen to reason and crossed the same lines that Bhunivelze crossed in the old world. I judged that the rest of you didn't deserve to share his fate for following his orders."

Not one person in the sea of faces dared move. Lightning tightened her hands around the lip of the statue's base, steeling herself again. "When a fal'Cie, a god, or a person decides to abuse power to hurt innocents, I can't let that go unpunished. I may not be the Savior you wanted, any more than this world is what we expected, but this is who I am. Trust me when I say you don't owe me."

In her mind, she could picture Hope's face, and the message she had to deliver hovered before her eyes. It carried the words she should have said so many times – everything she had to tell him but could never gather the courage to accept.

"You don't need me, either. My mission was to set you free, and I have. Now, I expect you to live in that freedom and make a better future. And I know…" she stumbled, blinking back tears and dropping her gaze to the hooded heads directly below her. One familiar girl in the front row stared back up, entranced, and Lightning mustered her determination. She took a shaky breath.

"I know it's hard. But you have to let go of the past, let go of the gods and let go of your fear."

_You knew… you'd have to let go of me._

"Do that, and you'll make salvation count for something," Lightning finished. "That's all I ask."

Pin-drop silence surrounded the square for nearly a minute, and Lightning was honestly afraid to move. She had just decided to slide off the statue's base, her feet lightly touching down, when the girl in the front row surprised her again.

She stripped off her armband and stood, gazing up at Lightning. She held out the black cloth in both hands.

"If this is what you want," the girl managed, her arms trembling slightly, "That's what I'll do."

With a nod, Lightning turned aside and motioned at the statue's base.

"You can leave it here. I can't think of a better offering."

A wave of reaction rippled over the seated members of the former New Order, and in moments the entire square had risen up. People crowded to the statue, dipping their heads at Lightning, at her likeness, or to both as they placed their armbands around the stone monument.

Smiles began to break through, hoods were falling back, and Lightning stood in awe.

She could see it. This was the humanity they had struggled to save.

_Your heart was always in the right place, Hope. You never lost sight of them._

_They need you back – even more than I do._

Lightning stayed in the square until the last of the crowd had dwindled to nothing. The afternoon light faded into evening before she started the slow, solitary walk home, letting her mind turn over what lay ahead. No other path remained open. For better or worse, Hope's decision was made, and she knew it was the right one for them both.

A different, long-buried memory rose to the surface of her mind, though – one that brought a sad smile to her face.

" _Keep your eyes forward…"_

"Tch, I didn't mean for you to take it this far," Lightning muttered to herself. She would never forget the proud, trusting look on his face when he led that first charge, and it made her eyes tear. Her chest clenched at the thought that he might never be himself again, but she quickly stifled the notion. There was no going back. No regrets or doubts would help them – only a clear, true goal. It was no longer enough for him to be safe.

Lightning could see that much. She imagined a time when Hope could stop looking forward, fighting his way uphill against the weight of the past, long enough to live in their present.

That destination lay beyond the treetops blanketing the valley, past a number of foreign rivers and maybe, just maybe, on Hope's undiscovered shoreline.

For now, Lightning could only help him pack.


	11. Severance (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 A/N: This really is the end, folks. I've had a blast, and I hope this epilogue rounds everything out. I'd decided on a different sort of "letters" format for this installment from the get-go, as you'll see :) Definitely let me know what you think! I do consider the chapter a shout-out to the canon epilogue, which I did not prefer.
> 
> I'll leave you with a few helpful notes:
> 
> \- "Lining out" is the proper way to correct entries in a watch log. It requires use of a straight edge and the correcting person's initials after the change. This procedure is really reserved for official entries only, so I brought it out here as a nerd-jab at Lightning. In the first letter, you'll see ACTUAL strike-throughs (bless AO3 for that feature) followed by the initials "LF."
> 
> \- TBD: To Be Determined
> 
> \- FYSA: For Your Situational Awareness

' _Light,_

_Did we ever talk about how boring some people can be? Centuries of experience can't seem to fix it, either. Take the same man who likes to talk about the biggest fish he ever caught, let him live a few lifetimes, and he will still talk your ear off about his ridiculous, exaggerated catch of the year. Only now, it's become the catch of the millennium._

_I say that because tent talk is making my version of crazy feel sane! Goddess, I miss you. Probably should have led with that line. The only remarkable thing I've heard in weeks is news that the rail line will reach our post in a few days – the first chance we'll have to send mail! Forgive my rambling, I just have too much pent up to say coherently._

_You want facts, I'm sure. Best place to start! Our little team made slow progress through the fall, but enough to settle in to a decently shielded canyon for winter. Views remind me of the Archylte Steppe – do you remember the rainstorms there? Striking resemblance (pun definitely intended). I can see the basic design principles behind every new landscape, and it's thrilling but still a little scary._

_They haven't figured out yet that I steered them straight to three coal deposits thus far. The boots-on-ground view is more precarious to navigate than any mental map, though! How did you get so good at it?_

_Why did I never ask you? I should have. You navigated us out of a thousand tricky situations and more. Feel free to slap some sense into me when I get home._

_And I'm sorry about that, too. I still don't know how long this excursion is going to take. I actually do think about you every half-waking minute and most waking, give or take a few of the ones requiring exceptional concentration or a fight-or-flight response (though some of those tend to conjure you up as support)._

_Unfortunately, I've got limited paper and lamplight, so this will have to do. Wish I could have said a hundred times more. I'd give anything for a kiss. It's all I wanted for my birthday last month (seventeen's nothing special, but isn't thirty_ _supposed to be a big deal?). Maybe you can save one for me. Hopefully you don't hate me yet, so I will count the days until I get a letter. Please let the others know I'm fine – looking forward to updates on them!_

_Yours,_

_Hope_

_P.S. I'm writing another right-handed message on the back for Yeul to validate; this time I wrote the translation, but you don't have to take my word. (Yes, Bhunivelze's still a cocky bastard. But I think the fact that he's moved from demands to questions is a step in the right direction. Oh, and he was talking to you. Sorry again, in retrospect.)_

Lightning frantically flipped the paper over. She suddenly released her breath in a long whoosh, not even realizing she'd been holding it for the past minute. An icy wind on the south wall made her shiver and she shook it off, her gloved fingers tightening around the paper's edges.

Below the otherworldly symbols drawn across the top, Hope had translated a single, neatly written line:

' _What do you think of this world you were so desperate to save, woman?'_

"Tch, he is a cocky bastard," Lightning huffed.

A muffled cackle to her right had her whipping toward the sound.

"An' who're you talking to this time, Sunshine?" Fang said with a smirk high enough to show above her scarf. "Y'know, I didn't mean for you to read that thing out here, freezin' your ass off!"

"I'd freeze my ass off in the tower, anyway." Lightning easily dismissed her prodding and folded the letter, stuffed it into her coat pocket, and brushed past her on the wall.

Fang just shook her head and clapped a hand on her shoulder before she could escape. "Look, I've still got an open ear if ya need to chat one off, lady."

"Thanks, but I don't have much to say."

"Right, then," Fang said, patting her once with force. "Won't take more than a stay-over this weekend, eh? You looked half-ready to jump this wall and run off like a starved mountain lion."

Pausing, she gave her wind-blasted counterpart a once-over and raised one dark eyebrow in obvious dissatisfaction.

"Come to think of it, you _do_ look starved. I'm not about to stand for that."

She gave Lightning a playful bump to the hip and strolled off.

"Dinner's at six!" Fang called over the rush of wind, waving lazily. "Don't be late, or I'm callin' the queen mother Serah!"

Once again alone on the wall, Lightning hung her head in defeat, her pocketed hand wrapping tightly around the letter within.

_Must they all use my sister against me?_

Lightning wanted nothing more than the time to compose a reply, if that was possible. She hadn't written anything but log entries or the occasional work-related report in ages, and the idea of putting whole sentences worth of feelings on paper stood as an insurmountable obstacle in her mind.

Her shift ended in an hour. She steeled herself, tightened the forest green scarf around her face and jogged toward the watchtower, where at least the wind would leave her be.

Inside, a couple of other border patrol guards warmed their hands around a raised fire crackling in its metal grate, but they barely spared a glance and a nod at her arrival. She mounted the stairs and wound her way to the observatory level, where the watch officer's desk stood empty. The passdown report was due in half an hour – one following a completely uneventful round of patrols.

Lightning dropped into the hard chair and stared at the bound log of entries, shifting her gaze to the drawer of supplies. With slow, almost ceremonious movements, she pulled out a spare notepad and pencil – god knew using a pen was inviting disaster.

She pressed the graphite tip to the page with all the force of her concentration. It snapped off in protest. Lightning muttered curses at the thing and wasted several minutes digging around for a sharpener, ultimately coming up empty-handed and begrudgingly snatching the pen.

She grabbed the ruler, as well.

_If I'm about to make a dozen errors, at least I can line them out properly._

Several minutes into the task, Lightning sat back and held her head. The paper looked more like it held interrupted railroad tracks than a stream of words. She growled and crumpled it into a tight ball, starting afresh.

The second draft was far from perfect, but time was up. Lightning read it over again, groaning at her pathetic but not-quite-atrocious attempt:

' _Hope,_

_I miss you, too (good advice on the intro). But don't ever call me goddess. I can't say I've spent enough time around people to be an authority, but I think you're right. Big surprise. Who the hell is bragging about a giant fish, anyway? Tell him you built a mechanical planet. End game._

_It's starting to freeze here, so I hope you're wearing layers. You left your scarf, by the way._ ~~_The green one. Like you had so many of them. Nevermind – If you catch a deadly cold, you're in for it._ ~~ _LF_ _I've commandeered it._

_Okay, that sounded idiotic. Don't catch a cold, please. Or anything else. I'd follow the rail to your post if I didn't know that would completely defeat the purpose of this mess. On the upside, you'd get your birthday kiss. Fair?  I_ _~~'d probably also catch your inevitable cold.~~ LF_

_I'm kidding. Well, not about wanting to go, but actually doing that. What's with the cheesy pun, anyway? Completely killed my image of the Steppe._

_Land navigation is boring._ _~~I don't think you need another competitive edge, either.~~ LF  _ _It requires three things: keen senses, a specific knowledge set_ _, and persistence. I'd rather discuss it in person, maybe next to a fire, because it would put you to sleep. As if I would slap you! Hold that thought… You'd have to do something unforgivable._

_You wanted updates. I'm on the border patrol again, so congratulations on that prediction. Threw myself into work, but it's not quite doing the trick. Everyone else is mostly the same. Dajh is getting tall, Claire's getting chatty, and Serah's just getting more pregnant. I hate when I'm right about these things. Snow was acting more_ _~~annoying~~ LF  _ _optimistic than usual – dead giveaway. I take it you wrote your parents separately, and I don't have anything to say on that front myself. Sorry. They probably hate me again._

_I don't hate you, though. Please tell me you never really thought that. I haven't tried to count how often I think about you – a watch might help. You're more like my shadow, if that makes any sense. Always with me._

_You know, I really wanted to line that out. But I didn't. I'm losing my edge (pun intended, I guess; there's a ruler involved. Laugh it up.)._

_I do think questions from the god-tumor are an improvement over demands. He was more than a cocky bastard to demand anything from me, in the first place. He was naïve – mainly for thinking you'd stand for it. You can let him know that I think the world was worth every last sacrifice if you're in it. I'm sure he'll love that._

_Yours,_

_Light_

_P.S. I feel like a complete fool, but kiss the paper here: X_

_Happy 17_ _th_ _/30_ _th_ _,_ _for what it's worth. Just glad you're alive.'_

And Lightning did kiss the mark, dead center, if only because she could imagine Hope laughing his ass off at the corny antic. Seeing that her lips had smudged the ink, she chuckled to herself in satisfaction.

She also suspected that loneliness had eroded her sanity.

She did not give a damn.

* * *

"Heya, Sunshine! Thought I told you not to be late for dinner!"

Fang's muffled drawl greeted Lightning even before she'd knocked on the door.

A quick glance at the window identified the culprit. Vanille the lookout snickered and ducked out of sight, and Lightning rolled her eyes. Not bothering to knock anymore, she pushed open the door with a loud creak and sighed as a wave of spiced heat met her on the landing.

"Sorry," she said, tugging off her coat and stamping the first bits of winter's slush from her boots. "Got sidetracked finding the mail drop-off."

Vanille was already bouncing in place, clearly in the know. "Ooh, writing Hope back, am I right? What did he say? Any sight of the sea, yet?"

"No," Lightning sighed. She stretched and made a beeline for the fireplace, defrosting her frozen, possibly traitorous fingers as she rambled. "I think the ocean is a lot farther off. They're camped in a canyon for winter, now – some place similar to the Archylte Steppe. He asked about everyone, and he misses us."

_I can't believe I just wrote all of that. God, and I kissed it! Why didn't I ask him to burn the evidence?_

Her face was much warmer than the fire had provided for.

"Pfft, he misses _you_. And I'm sorry to say the scarf's gotta go, unless ya want stew in it." Fang chuckled and returned to the fire with a half-boiled pot of assorted vegetables and meat, heaving it onto the rack as she muttered, "Damned if I forgot the garlic."

Lightning shrugged it off. The initial aroma of the food made her stomach rumble, but she hardly paid it any mind. She breathed in again, the smell of his familiar scarf hitting her gut harder. Her thoughts were long gone past the flames and out of the house, beyond the sound of the front door's opening and closing, flying off to a chilly tent somewhere.

"I'm sure he misses a lot of things."

_Like being warm. Can't say if it's even the weather. I forgot to ask if he was sleeping enough, too—_

It startled her when a pair of pale arms wrapped around her waist from behind, a barely-there bump pressed into her back, and her sister's voice passed her ear.

"Sorry, but you looked like you needed a hug."

"Thanks." Lightning smiled half-heartedly and patted her head. Serah meant well, anyway.

And she did, begrudgingly, unwind Hope's scarf.

* * *

' _Light,_

_My use of 'goddess' was emphatic (didn't mean to insult!). I wish I had more time, but we're packing up today for an extended plains trek. Thank you for the kiss – unexpected and sweet of you, and I'm keeping it for the most annoying period of time I can think of: eternity. Better kiss your elaborate letter destruction plans goodbye._

_That was also the best conversation I've had in ages. Maybe ever. It must be pretty miserable in the settlement if you've resorted to humoring me with puns, though (even good ones like that_ _), so I have to be a little more direct, I think. Are you doing all right? I mean it – are you eating well, and sleeping, and not doing dangerous or irrational things to get temporary relief from boredom? I know you a little too well by now, and I'm worried._

_I did write to my parents. They don't hate you, by the way, and they're worried too. More on why I'm asking. Dad said the New Order never did regroup after your appearance, which is great news, but he also hasn't seen you since I left. Mom saw you, though. She said you were like a ghost, and I wasn't sure what she meant. Pale? There and gone again in a moment? Or just never really there? I need you to tell me, or I might have to end this journey sooner than planned._

_On a brighter note, please tell Serah and Snow congratulations! They've always wanted that big, happy family. Guess it's two down, who knows how many more to go. Come to think of it, I've never asked how you feel about that dynamic. Don't read into it – just one of many questions._

_It might be mid-spring before the rail reaches our next post, so don't think something's wrong if I can't reply to your letter for a while (handcars and horses aren't too fast, but Sazh has to ration fuel for the track-laying machinery). Until then, you can do some accurate counting with the enclosed gift. The last village we passed was very tech-savvy with timepieces, and you need it more than me._

_Give my love to the surrogate family (but keep a good amount for yourself)._

_Still yours,_

_Hope_

_P.S. The god-tumor, as you've termed it, has been talkative lately. I've written another pretty amusing message on the back, here. And since I owe you for the last one, here's another kiss: X'_

Lightning pushed her back against the rough tree bark, high up in her woodland perch, and choked back a sob. The main perk to taking field missions was the privacy, not the comfort, but the ache in her chest was quickly outstripping the pain of her bandaged arm.

She really did hate bears. Said menace was still circling the trunk below.

She hated the speed of railway construction a little more, though. The months between correspondence felt like centuries. And her current assignment was supposed to have been in an easy kill sector – perfect for burning off steam, followed by quiet downtime in a tree somewhere to read her newest lifeline of a letter.

Nothing had quite worked out.

_Guess I'd better finish this. It can't get much worse._

She turned the page over, bypassing the symbols at the top to jump into Hope's translation:

' _I can't understand you humans. Why would you tear yourself apart for another person? It hurts! Are you doing this for vengeance? Reason dictates that there be some benefit to this arrangement, so why can I only feel pain?'_

Lightning laughed through a blur of tears. There sat the mighty Bhunivelze, getting his share of emotional pummeling – if it wasn't simultaneously hurting Hope, she would have reveled in it. Instead, she pulled out the slender watch in the envelope and clumsily strapped it onto her good wrist. She flipped Hope's letter, took note of the second hand's position on the watch, and kissed his mark for a full ten seconds.

Swiping a dirty, torn sleeve across her face, Lightning exhaled and pulled herself together. She dug into her pack and produced a flare, aiming it straight up to call for assistance.

The senseless part of her wished Hope could see it.

* * *

"Serah, I need to borrow a pencil."

The shock on her six-months-pregnant sister's face at the sight of Lightning was enough to make the border guard step back from the door.

"My god, Sis… Wh-what happened to you?" she squeaked, weakly raising her hand to point. "Your arm!"

_Oh great. Maternity-induced panic._

Lightning took a deep breath. She briefly took stock of her bedraggled field gear and the blood slightly darkening the outside of her new bandage. "It's nothing, Serah, really. Not my first run-in with bears, and I doubt it will be my last. It's not even my sword arm. I didn't need many stitches—"

As far as possible with her belly interference, Serah plunged forward to smother her in a hug, sniffling into her shoulder.

"Why couldn't you just… stay in… the tower rotation?" she pleaded in snatches. Lightning patted her back with the better hand.

"Oh, I'll be taking a break. Even Hope was fussing over me about destructive habits from thousands of miles away. Not a great sign."

"He _knew_?" Serah slowly backed off, her fingers finding purchase on Lightning's shoulders instead. "Was it, you know… god-related?"

With a slight chuckle, Lightning quickly explained, "More like a combination of knowing my habits, sharp intuition, and his parents' snitching."

Her sister joined in the laughter and finally relaxed, ushering her inside the house. She rubbed affectionately at her bump.

"Parents can be pretty intrusive when they worry. Or any loved one, I guess," she remarked. She squatted down to dig in a messenger bag, coming up with a pencil box, a notepad and a smile. "Sure you don't need pain reliever more than these school supplies?"

Lightning shook her head as she slid into a chair. She pulled the supplies closer. "Already taken. Distraction works better. Oh, and he said congratulations on the baby, by the way."

"Tell him we couldn't be happier! Write away, pining sister," Serah sang and shuffled off, pausing halfway to the sink to turn and prop a hand on her hip. "You'd better tell him what happened to you, too, or I'll write him myself."

"Ugh. Fine." Lightning rested her face on the smooth wooden table for a moment, collecting her thoughts while she stared sideways at her watch.

_Time enough to put it down right. And I can erase the bad parts._

The box even contained a sharpener. With a small but genuine smile, Lightning raised her head, smoothed the paper and started scratching out her letter.

' _Hope,_

_A bear attacked me today. (Points for best lead-in yet?) Don't worry – he just swiped at my arm and left some scratches. Needed a few stitches, but no harm done. I was up a tree afterward reading your letter, which came as a pretty timely wakeup call. Serah threatened additional letters if I didn't tell the tale._

_Your mom probably meant that I wasn't really 'there,' I guess, when she called me a ghost. I've always been pale (darker than you, but still). Are you surprised? I don't deal well with losing people. God knows I deserve it after I left you and everyone else for a thousand years._

_I don't want you to compromise your mission over my stupid hang-ups, though. If the god-tumor has started whining about emotional turmoil, you're keeping things from me. What's on your mind (besides a suddenly hormonal deity)?_

_I've passed on your congratulations to Serah, and she says they couldn't be happier. I won't read into your question (cart before the horse, much?). My current dynamic with Claire is mutual tolerance with a side of affection._

_I'm not sleeping well – never at home, anyway. My eating habits aren't stellar, but Serah or Fang set me straight if things get out of hand. Does anyone have your back, out there? I know you've had it worse than pioneering with a bunch of acquaintances before, just wondering. Since we're being honest, I expect the unabridged truth from you when your next letter comes around in spring. I'd rather hear it from your better half – the lefty._

_Oh, and I kissed your last letter for ten seconds. I timed it with your watch. That was a perfect gift. I owe you. Please take care of yourself, for me._

_Love (read into it if you want),_

_Light_

_P.S. Match my record. I know it's ridiculous. X'_

"Did you just _kiss_ that?"

Serah's voice burst through her thoughts, and Lightning dropped the letter. She froze for a moment, covering her face with one hand, and snorted in undeniable embarrassment.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"No!" Serah blurted, flailing her hands as she drifted closer. She broke into a wide grin. "No, definitely not. Adorable is more like it. Do you kiss them every time?"

Lightning thought about that while the familiar, accursed heat spread over her face. She nodded once, coming to herself in time to hastily fold the letter.

"Only since he asked for it," she muttered. She immediately bit her tongue.

_What am I, fourteen?_

Serah had sidled even closer, draping an arm around her sister's shoulders. She giggled and turned Lightning's strawberry face up to her.

"Oh, he did? Pretty gutsy move – unless that wasn't the first time."

"Serah, please don't butt in—"

"It's written all over your face," she said, patting Lightning's cheek. "I'm married with one and a half kids, you know. Maybe head-over-heels was several centuries back for Mrs. Snow Villiers, but humor me. Give me a when, where, and who on the _real_ first kiss, and I'll leave you alone."

Lightning blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Is the who really necessary?"

"Who made the first move, silly."

"Oh." Lightning stared down, picking at a loose edge of her bandage. The memory was muddled with its horrific aftermath, but she tried to concentrate only on those exhilarating moments in the fog. "H-he did. By the river. The morning before we stayed at Fang and Vanille's. We were just doing laundry, arguing about something… He probably knew he was in for it when the cult took him later. He was right."

After a stretch of quiet seconds, her sister cleared her throat. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. I was hoping to help you focus on the happy times." Serah leaned down to Lightning's level and tucked a lock of sweat-mangled hair behind her ear.

"He obviously thought that one little kiss was worth it."

She tried to look anywhere except at Serah, whose brow wrinkled in puzzlement when Lightning's lips pulled into a tiny smirk of satisfaction. She was far beyond caring that her face had flamed up anew.

"I never said it was a little kiss."

Gasping and sputtering, Serah tried several false starts until she choked out, "You didn't say _one word_! For half a year!" She let out an exasperated sigh and wagged her head. "Such a shame, sister."

"I was ashamed of myself, alright," Lightning muttered, suddenly feeling the weight of her former insecurities. Her right hand closed around the top of her pant leg's fabric in a vice grip.

"That's not what I meant," Serah said. She pulled up a chair opposite Lightning and placed a hand on her whitened, scraped knuckles. "You didn't get to gush about it. You didn't even have time to process it, I bet."

Lightning relaxed her fingers and shrugged, but she was spot-on. "No. And I've kissed him since, just… never like that, again. It was too much too soon. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Snow or the others about this, either."

"Secret's safe with me," Serah promised, raising her palm. "On one condition."

Groaning, Lightning held her forehead. "Really? What is it, this time?"

A knowing grin spread over her sister's face, and Lightning peeked through her fingers with a raised eyebrow.

"When you see Hope again, kiss him like you mean it."

* * *

The fresh April day was perfect. Sickeningly sweet with blooming flowers, caressed with the softest breeze, and serenaded by a chorus of birds. The only clouds were harmless and fluffy. The pollen had lost its allergic potency. Whatever mating wildlife should have been rampaging in the woods had taken the day off for sudden-onset hibernation.

Lightning wondered if Yeul had yet retained some of Etro's power. No one, not even the former seeress, should have been able to predict her own storybook wedding day.

But there it was. It could have been packaged and sold.

Standing in the midst of her entire social circle – minus one – and a significant gathering of pelt-clad hunter families, Lightning felt utterly alone. She wanted to enjoy the festivities, and she'd painted on a hundred smiles for everyone else's sake. Yeul looked radiant, Noel hadn't stopped smiling like a fool, and the guests were already bragging about their nuptials being the event of the year.

It came down to the minus one. Hope's letter, wherever it was, hadn't arrived. Even if it had, Lightning missed having his presence to get her through another awkward celebratory ritual.

Snow and Serah's wedding had been simple – a forest ceremony with only the traveling company of a few dozen people, at the time – but even then he'd kept her occupied. He stayed with her, talked about centuries' worth of interesting sights and experiences, and even helped her dance when Snow refused to stop badgering her about being a wallflower.

At least in a loud, overflowing village reception like the one Lightning now faced, no one noticed if she disappeared. And the wine was exceptional.

That may have been the thing that finally set her reminiscing into heartache, though. She'd found a nicely secluded log bench as far from the open-air dance floor as possible, nearly hugging the tree line, and settled into a second glass as twilight enveloped the scene. The blazing sunset left behind a painted sky flecked with stars.

The only thing that could have made it more picturesque, if she had any say, was the lapping of the ocean on a favored beach.

_Maybe he's there._

A brilliant flash of light made her tense, and Lightning turned with narrowed, catlike eyes to the dead man holding a camera.

Well, until she saw the sizeable tuft of dark hair. Dajh gave her a nervous grin about half as bright as the flash.

"Uh, here," he stammered, handing off a darkish square of plastic material. He backed away slowly and added, "Don't mind me, just doin' the bride's photo taskers. See ya!"

He turned and sprinted like a gazelle.

_Photo taskers? What's this for, then?_

Lightning squinted at the square, her own features slowly coming to light from the dark blur in its center. In the image, the wine hadn't jostled – Dajh had caught her the second before reaction, chin on the back of her hand and eyes reflecting the fiery sky.

She liked it. The technology was inefficient to produce just one photo for his trouble, but maybe that made it even better. No one else would ever see that frozen moment unless she gave it up.

Lightning smiled to herself. She knew exactly what to do.

* * *

When another week passed with no letter, Lightning decided to skip a step or two in her plan. Her patience wasn't what it used to be.

Sazh, on the other hand, had enough patience for both of them.

"Like I told you last week, missy," he enunciated, scrawling a note in the margin of a locomotive schematic, "They're still checking in like clockwork. That signal's relayin' perfectly clear through the outpost chain. If you don't like the system, take it up with Charlie over there." Standing upright, Sazh cracked his back and jerked a thumb toward one of his team members who labored over an odd contraption at a secluded desk, tapping its tiny hammer like his life depended on it.

"What? No, I—" Lightning started, but Sazh was already rolling up his diagrams and striding out his office door to the rail yard. She doubled her steps to catch up.

"I'm sorry, and I know you're busy, but if the team's been sending messages I thought they might've mentioned a hang-up."

Sazh swept into the open sliding panel of a boxcar-turned-workshop but immediately hopped back out, having traded schematics for a clipboard.

"Break's in five, Rolph!"

He gave Lightning a near-miss of a smile and patted her arm. "Look, I know it's tough. You'd be my second call if anything really went down in the field – first call's mandatory to the council. But even then, I wouldn't have the details; we shoot out questions, they spit back a handful o' canned replies. Efficiency's king with a dozen different teams on the go."

"I _will_ say our missing snail-mail delivery's got diddly-squat to do with a survey team hang-up, though," he added, sliding his pen down a column of entries on his clipboard. He tapped it twice on one spot. "Might be as silly as a paper shortage. We asked if they needed a bunch of supplies on this list, and paper was one that got a 'yes.'"

Blinking at the simplicity of her issue inside the myriad of potential problems, Lightning peered over the metal clip at the chart in accusation. "Okay. That's… better than expected, I guess."

"Always is," Sazh said, grinning in earnest. "You oughtta write him, anyway. Tell him to give those poor guys a break, while you're at it! This train'll be ready to chug along by autumn with the stream of materials and fuel coming up the line. 'Bout to outstrip our manpower for handling it."

"Wait… what?" Lightning stared at him, puzzled, and ultimately looked around the yard full of crates, supply carts, and the frame of a half-built engine not fifty yards to her left. Men and women in hard-hats with assorted tools were bustling all over the place. Wires she'd failed to notice before ran out from the roof of the main office, stretching onto a pole and, finally, disappearing into the ground.

Belatedly, it dawned on her that the message system itself was a feat. Rotating teams had to have been laying line for thousands of miles.

The wires themselves were even made of particular materials, all of which had to be mined somewhere.

Hope had obviously led the surveyors to more than a few coal deposits.

_Is he leading them now, period?_

Lightning shook her head rapidly, squared her shoulders, and met Sazh's cool stare.

"You put him in charge of the team, didn't you?" she asked, stifling the threat that wanted to creep into her tone.

"He volunteered," Sazh said simply. "Had all the right qualifications and no objections. Sure, some of my guys prob'ly just wanted to send the kid off to a wild frontier, but they never saw the ace up his sleeve."

With a wink, he tapped the side of his head. "Tip o' the spear in development, Estheim's team. Plus, the naysayers can't badger him out there. Usually best to leave Hope to his own devices. He's got a lot of 'em."

Lightning stood aghast. She ran a hand over her face and turned on her heel, but several paces later turned back and stalked straight up to Sazh.

Heart pounding, she felt a rising, senseless urge to level him.

"How is he supposed to lie low if he's directing the whole team? Sazh, they could've _killed_ him over the tiniest slip-up," she ground out. "Just-just dumped him off in the wilderness! You know I'm right, damn it! You do…"

Her fists clenched and loosened without purpose until her resolve broke under that fatherly gaze, and her eyes hit her boots.

Sazh's hands landed on her shoulders. "Honey, he knows what he's doing out there. No one coulda stopped him, either, so don't even think like that. Got it?"

"I wish he'd told me," Lightning whispered, raising her impossibly heavy head. "He didn't have to lie about it."

Sazh cracked an ironic smile and said evenly, "Oh really, now? Not a chance in hell he'd skip town alone if you had any idea what he was up to, and you know that. Have a little faith."

"I'll leave that to the god-fearing crowd," she muttered.

"Then get a load o' the proof," Sazh declared, waving his arm in a grand gesture at the entire operation surrounding them.

The truth of the matter was undeniable, but it left an uneasy feeling in Lightning's stomach. Hope had played it down so expertly, she never had the slightest clue that _his_ team was blazing a trail to modernization. She knew him too well to think the omissions were anything less than intentional. It wasn't modesty; he never wasted her time with social graces.

It was an evasion.

_What is he so afraid of?_

"Think I'll go write that letter, after all," Lightning said. "Thanks for the updates." She didn't wait for Sazh to say goodbye. Her boots pounded the dirt as she ran east up the track, bypassed the town and eventually headed south along the river, not once stopping until she hit her front door.

Lightning slammed it behind her, sucking in gulps of musty air – the penalty for spending a three-day watch shift on the border. She was quick to open the windows but slow to make her way to the table.

The supplies Serah had 'gifted' to her lay in plain sight. They'd been sitting in one spot long enough to collect a film of dust.

With labored movements, Lightning dragged the chair back and tentatively took a seat, as if she expected the surface to collapse underneath her thin frame with the extra weight of so much concern.

She slipped her photograph from beneath the notebook. It was hard to say if that lonely day's misery or her current state of mind was worse.

Both had to hit the paper before she imploded. Shakily, she picked a sharpened pencil from the little box.

' _Hope,_

_I got word from Sazh today that your paper supply ran out. I might lose my mind if I don't see a letter soon, so I'm sticking a couple of extra pages in with this on the outside chance that it reaches you faster._

_Noel and Yeul's wedding was last week. It was practically a fairy tale event. Wish you could've been there (and I'm sure they did, too). I didn't dance. Dajh took a photo at the reception, enclosed. It's not as fancy as a watch, but I think you'll like it. Take it as proof of at least one moment I lost to you._

_But that's not the main reason I'm writing._

_There's a big difference between watching you craft a convincing lie and being on the receiving end. I guess your team's been busier than I thought, out there. You ought to see the rail yard – it's a mad house. Sazh said they're months away from a functional train service. He also said you should give your guys a well-deserved break, on his orders. You know, since you're the one calling the shots._

_I expect that your next letter's going to be very, very long. You've got a lot of explaining to do (both you and the god-tumor, I suspect.)_

_Love,_

_Light'_

_P.S. The wine at the wedding was excellent. I've saved a bottle. You'll have to earn it.'_

She couldn't bring herself to print another word – not even the usual 'X.' Drained in every way, Lightning folded her arms on the table, dropped her head and closed her burning eyes. She resolved to run the letter over after a nap.

* * *

Torturous as it was, only one more month passed before Hope's letter arrived. Lightning ran off to retrieve it first thing at an alert from Sazh, with the idea that she could use it as motivation to complete a growing list of market errands. She didn't make it halfway down the list before she gave in to her pounding heart and fled the square, though, blowing in and out of the recently established post office with barely a greeting.

Letter in hand – and nowhere near willing to wait another minute – she settled for an abandoned bench in a garden surrounding the Savior monument. She tore into the envelope, recognizing the lined paper and ripped notebook margin of her own supplies.

' _Light,_

_I don't know where to start. Probably with a hundred 'thank yous' for writing me again and sending paper! I spent weeks agonizing over your arm injury and whether you were working yourself into an early grave, and then you gave me that picture. You looked sad, but all in one piece. And still beautiful. I really did cry – one of the guys caught me and gave the patented 'boss is losing it' look. It's nothing new._

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my real position. If my dishonesty was unforgivable by your standards, I'll take that slap. I couldn't compromise my mission to put some distance between you and Bhunivelze._

_But I'd be lying if I said that was the only reason I held back. I'm starting to suspect a little bit more of his agenda, and it's not just about controlling me, or even you. It may be about getting the power to achieve a certain level of large-scale control. I've been in leadership positions for so long now that I didn't think about what it could mean to him. I'm not even ambitious! I just see what needs to be done and make it happen. I think he sees it as an opportunity to manipulate people from a higher position. Something of a consolation prize for losing the reins to his new world._

_Take this, for example (and as another chance to come clean about recent events): I sprained my right wrist a couple of months ago, catching myself from a sudden fall. After wrapping it and icing it for days, and then while it healed over several weeks, I noticed how it affected my behavior. I slept less, had more nightmares, and became very antisocial – a backlash to losing one of the god-tumor's outlets, I assume. I also pushed my team much harder than usual without even thinking about it. Sazh was right to order a break for them._

_Light, I don't want to be that kind of leader. I can't let him make me into one. What do you think I should do, though? Seek an early retirement? If people need someone to step up, I can't just ignore the call. I've got creator-level knowledge for a reason._

_To make matters worse, I think Bhunivelze really is obsessed with you. It's the strangest mix of infatuated and vengeful you can imagine, and sometimes it makes me sick. You'll see what I mean._

_With all these charges stacking up against me, I can't fault you for throwing in the towel, if you choose. I'm stubborn and I miss you terribly, but I can't promise that everything will be okay soon, if ever. I'll leave it to you. You can just write me letters, if you want, and I won't stop writing back. Or don't, if it's too much to take. All I ever wanted was for us to be together, however that works. But it's not just about what I want._

_You asked me to be honest._

_Love,_

_Hope_

_P.S. What must I do to earn that wine? (I used a second page for the god-tumor's latest ranting. Maybe alcohol would shut him up.)'_

For the first time in a long time, Lightning was afraid to look at the second page. Her heart was already pulsing in her throat, and a cold sweat broke out across her brow. She finally closed her eyes and brought the back page to the forefront.

Lightning stared at the lengthy string of symbols for several seconds, the tension visible in them – they were sloppier than usual, whether from wrist injury or the strain of conflict as Hope forced himself to write hurtful words.

And hurtful, they were. Small, raised blotches scattered on the paper marked the struggle of his translation. She resolved to share the burden of truth, and read:

' _This is how you thank me, little human? I give you worlds of knowledge and you resign yourself to slavery! What other living soul has the right to give you orders? To bend your will? I admit to have underestimated that trait – there is a resolve and a drive for progress that comes with these accursed emotions. I could see them when I singled you out._

_Yet you refuse to temper yourself! You would fight me for a lifetime, all for these worthless feelings and that powerless woman! She can do nothing for you but bring misery. If I could escape this prison of your soul, I would pay her back this suffering. She had the gall to challenge me, to level the weapon of humanity at my glory and reduce me to witness the chaos infecting my new world, but that wasn't enough! No, she relegated me to endure your anguish and share your masochistic attachment. I hate her and I love her – you leave me without a scrap of reason! The logical course is to break her. Test me, and see if I cannot find a way.'_

In the end, he had written one more note in his shaky script:

' _Light, I won't stop trying to bring him around. I love you, only. - Hope'_

There was no describing the hurricane of conflicting emotions that engulfed Lightning in that moment. Searing pain consumed her chest, and she waited for an explosion that would not come.

Lightning felt the streams of tears dripping off her chin as she bent over the pages, new drops joining his own blotchy constellations. Her very soul was lost in the dark all over again. But how could he reach her, this time?

As the storm subsided and her hands stopped trembling, she went back to Hope's first letter. She pored over it for every shred of reassurance that the threat was not as terrible as it seemed.

Ultimately, she could see his heart. He was alone and afraid of himself. Dangerous but unsure, asking for her guidance. Based on her limited understanding of Hope's many sides, she bemoaned the fact that she was still unequipped to make a good decision, when everything really did rest on her.

She needed guidance from another source, first.

* * *

Lightning pounded on the door to her sister's house, letter in hand and a mind whirring with apprehension.

_What am I doing? How much is safe to say? This has got to be a new low…_

Heavy footsteps preceded the door flinging wide, and Snow raised both eyebrows at her rattled state.

"Uh, Sis? Serah's out 'hiking' with Lina and the kids, so you might wanna come back la—"

"I came to see you," she blurted in the quietest voice she could manage. "Believe me, this is a last resort."

Snow rubbed at the back of his neck, looking baffled and almost embarrassed, but he finally nodded and stepped aside.

"There's, uh, sandwich stuff if you're hungry."

"No, thanks." Lightning strode directly for a chair, planted herself and waited for him to sit, tapping her boot nervously against the floor.

"Okay," Snow mumbled, joining her. "What's this emergency? Y'know, considering you still haven't forgiven my latest crime, I'm a little surprised."

Abandoning all discretion, Lightning slid her crumpled letter across the table. Her stomach was a mass of knots.

"I don't want to… I-I _can't_ rehash what Hope said. Just read this, spare the jokes, and help me figure out what to do. You said you knew him pretty well, before, and I need your perspective."

It was surreal, seeing her brother-in-law gingerly collect the pages with his gigantic hands, holding them like they might break into pieces. He still looked dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape the entire time he read.

_Ugh, I might live to regret this._

After the end of the second page, Lightning got the distinct impression from his face that he was no longer baffled by her actions, but the content. Baffled and a little disturbed.

Snow huffed and scratched at his stubble, letting the pages fall to the table.

"Well… Now I know why you're looking for advice."

"And?"

"And nothing," Snow sighed, relaxing in his seat. He took a long breath to process everything and eventually chuckled to himself. "That bastard Bhunivelze's getting antsy. Sure sign that he knows he's met his match. I won't deny that it was creepy, and I bet it scared Hope shitless. But you're right – I know Hope pretty well. He doesn't realize his own strength, in some ways. You know that, though. You know him better than you think."

"Not from all those centuries I missed," Lightning muttered.

"Eh, he's the same guy at the core. I want you to think back to the little l'Cie tagalong you mentored, for a sec. Then, I want you to remember finding his soul inside that monster of a god," Snow challenged, a slight smirk on his face. "Just think about how you saved him. Every time."

A rush of so many memories slammed her in the stomach, and Lightning gasped. She pictured Hope, struggling to survive and plotting his vengeance on the man who killed his mother. She pictured Bhunivelze, terrifying in his sheer power, plotting to annihilate the human race that refused to be perfected. And finally, she pictured herself in the gap.

When had she ever failed to help him – to _change_ him – before?

Lightning nodded slowly to herself. "When you put it like that…"

Snow's throaty laugh startled her out of her thoughts, and she shot him a weak glare.

"Hey now, go easy on me, Sis," he teased. He folded his hands behind his head. "I'm just glad you're coming back around. Any more advice needed? I mean, now that you look about ready to follow your lover into the wilderness—agh! Damn!"

It was just enough of a kick to the shin to make Lightning's point. In an overdramatic show, Snow winced and rubbed at the offended leg for a long minute, wearing an ineffectual pout.

"You'll live," Lightning remarked, faintly smirking herself. "He's not my lover, and I'm not about to run off into the wilderness to interrupt his work."

Snow's expression transformed into confusion, and then into something near anger. He smacked a fist on the table. "You mean you're not even gonna try to fix anything? What happened to all the 'mutual feelings' talk and the whole last year you've spent sleep-deprived or half dead? Hope doesn't sound much better, if you haven't noticed." Actually frowning for once, he jabbed a finger at the proof lying on the pages.

"I didn't say I was giving up," she said, snatching her letter. She pushed to her feet and headed for the door. "It's just more practical to take the train."

"That's not for another couple of months, at least!" Snow called after her.

Halfway out the door, Lightning shrugged and cracked a weary smile.

"Should give him time to wrap up this mission. I'll write back, for now."

* * *

' _Hope,_

_I talked to Snow about your problem. It's weird using him as a voice of reason, but I'll take whatever works. He made some impressive arguments. If he says you're still the same person, more than capable of beating that god-tumor into regression, he's probably right._

_I'm willing to bet on that. I've never been one to throw in the towel, anyway. So please, keep writing me. I want to know when you see the ocean._

_Is the team still working well for you? It's impossible to imagine you as a tyrannical leader. You're obviously sensitive to your weak points and willing to correct mistakes, so give yourself some credit. If they give you any trouble, feel free to rant. I can't promise denial of retribution, though. And early retirement does sound like a solid option._

_On a very different note, Serah went into labor yesterday afternoon. I guess her 'hiking' finally did the trick. We've been at the clinic since. I waited until now to write you for this news: it's a healthy (gigantic) little boy. Snow's been calling him Junior – the actual name remains TBD. But I'm too anxious to delay my letter any longer._

_It also reminded me of that question you asked a while ago. For the record, childbirth terrifies me. I'd rather be attacked by a raving mad bear. This could prove to be a sticking point, FYSA._

_To your very last note in the previous letter: if the thought ever crosses your mind that I don't love you, stab that thought in the face._

_(Don't actually stab yourself. Please. I will take back my knife.)_

_Love,_

_Light_

_P.S. You asked about the wine. Proper glasses will earn you a drink (I don't own any). Then it's yours, if you're willing to share._

Lightning blinked up from the page, bleary-eyed after the long hours comforting her sister, running errands, managing visits, and pondering life's questions in that special way only momentous occasions bring about.

She stood from the maternity ward couch and stretched. A short stroll and a peek into Serah's tiny room identified her, Snow, and their bundle of joy snoozing peacefully.

The rest of their friends had already come and gone in a flurry of gushing congratulations and activity. Her heart had swelled briefly, unable to deny the flood of happiness, but it had since receded.

Lightning made her way back to the couch as her thoughts came full circle. She collapsed against the thin cushions, waiting for exhaustion to claim her.

_I'll never be happy, here. No amount of everyone else's happiness – not even my sister's – is going to fix that._

_Snow was right. I'm just half dead._

Eventually, she slipped into a restless sleep. She dreamed of nothing but green eyes, the foaming surf, and trains.

* * *

Lightning startled herself awake. Her forehead bore a mark from the glass – she could see it reflected in the window to her left, and beyond that, the gentle hilly terrain drifting by. It was a welcome change from the barren landscape of the last few hours.

Considering Sazh's locomotive was on its maiden voyage, with the exception of short-distance trial runs, she was pleased to find that the service was punctual. Every milestone village had come and gone within minutes of the stated arrival times.

At the thought, Lightning checked the time on her watch and felt her heart race to an unsafe speed. Less than an hour remained to her destination. Rising from her seat, she staggered half the train's length to the open-air observation car. She wasn't going to miss a thing.

The hills were gradually growing, she noted, before the engine plowed through a tunnel and around a bend. Lightning was briefly blinded by the sun as it made its journey toward the horizon, her hair already whipped by the wind into a tangled disaster. She hugged her sweater close against the chill of autumn and breathed.

She could smell it – the faintest of salt in the air.

Another winding series of turns finally revealed the great blue ocean, sparkling brilliantly under the sun. Lightning had seen nothing like it since Bodhum, but the view from her hometown's sandy beaches could not compare to the vastness stretched before her. Tears blurred her vision only to be dried by the blustery air.

Finally, she turned her attention to the track ahead, where a small cluster of buildings seemed to sprout along the coastal cliff. She knew that had to be the town – nothing else of civilization had turned up in a hundred miles.

It felt like a moment and hours passed before the train pulled in to the station, squealing and hissing to a halt.

" _Last stop, Crystal Cove…"_

Lightning tuned out the rest of the announcement. She couldn't have cared less when the train would be departing. She had no intention of departing any time soon. She made her way back to her seat to claim her single piece of luggage, tried in vain to tame her salt-laced and wind-blasted hair, and stepped out onto the platform.

A quick glance found no one in the vicinity. It didn't faze her, and she wasted no more time before striding off into the seaside settlement. Some shops were just closing up, having no reason to do business beyond sunset, and a few townspeople greeted her before going back to work.

It took her less than twenty minutes to reach the other side of the town proper. Many scattered homes still lay ahead, most along a single main road that ran closer to the rocky cliffs.

One home – wherever the farthest one lay – was Hope's.

The thought turned her insides into a writhing mass.

_What is he going to think? Maybe this wasn't the best idea…_

Whatever he would think, she didn't have much more time to agonize over it. The road was narrower by the minute, about to dead-end at the very last structure in sight. The ocean-facing house was simple – a wood-frame built like so many others she'd passed, with stilts in the back to compensate for the sloping ground. She imagined the extra space beneath served well for dry storage. She also imagined that at least one person actually _lived_ on the street.

"Where is everyone?" Lightning wondered aloud, barely daring to whisper. Her path ended before she could guess at the answer, though, and she had a much more pressing challenge at hand.

Knocking on the door.

"Deep breaths," she mumbled, following her own advice and hesitating three times before she settled her suitcase on the ground. She wrung her hands together, shook them out, and raised one to the wooden surface.

"You don't have to knock."

Hope's familiar voice was behind her. Lightning forced herself from temporary paralysis to turn to the sound. He stood several paces away, just on the other side of the dirt road, looking every bit as stunned as she'd imagined. He started to lift a hand, having lost the gift of speech the instant she faced him, and his expression said that he wanted to take a running leap.

But if her own obstacles of breathing and movement felt insurmountable, she knew he had it worse.

_Say something, woman! Words! Anything!_

Lightning finally managed to catch a breath.

"I-I wasn't completely sure it was… the right house."

_Idiot! That was terrible. Maybe just_ do _something._

So she took a step toward him. It must have broken an invisible barrier, because Hope closed the distance in the next two seconds, binding her in his arms with a force she hadn't known possible. She felt the tremors running through him as he sobbed into her hair. In between, she caught clips of his words soaked with dammed-up emotion and fought to not fall apart herself – if that could ever happen under such an embrace.

"You-you're _here_ ," he said for the tenth time. "You didn't have to… I never said you had to—"

"My choice," Lightning interjected. She pulled back enough to hold his face in view, taking in the slight changes of maturity, the greater height advantage, and especially his ageless smile. "I won't knock, if that's your protocol."

Hope choked out a laugh. He swiped his eyes clear before his fingers found a path into the tangled pink nest on her head. "I do have a bell. Feel free to not use that, either."

She was too overwhelmed to reply beyond a chuckle in that moment. He smelled incredible – better than she remembered, his skin and clothing permeated with the salty chill of ocean air. Suddenly, Lightning had the presence of mind to glance right, a bit too aware of their exposed position after years of caution.

"Hope, are you the only person living on this street?"

"More or less," he said easily. He never moved his eyes from her. "My team's preparing to head back for winter, and the town is developing faster than people can get into houses. Is it a problem?"

"No, I just… wondered..."

The sun was setting over the ocean behind Hope, creating a halo with its gorgeous backdrop. It brought out the slight glow still present in his eyes, but she wasn't about to let that kill her momentum. Lightning was nearly trembling with nerves about her second surprise – more so than she'd expected. Her palms were practically charged where they rested against his shirt. Her sister's words rang in her ears.

' _Kiss him like you mean it.'_

"Light, what were you wondering?" He still wore a smile. He knew.

But Lightning would not waste the moment, element of surprise be damned. She slid her hands up to the back of Hope's neck, her fingers warm inside his collar, and raised herself to capture his beautiful mouth.

What began as a soft, tentative response wound its way up to breathless passion in record time. Just when Lightning thought she'd finally released the tension that had mounted in his absence, he matched and surpassed her intensity. She tasted every anguished second on his tongue and felt every desperate night in his hands, until she swore her body was on fire.

And if it was, Lightning was about to set his house ablaze, because her back had just hit the door.

The contact snapped them both to reality. They broke apart, panting for air. Lightning leaned heavily against the wooden surface for support, one hand still latched to Hope's collar. He maintained a relaxed hold around her but hid his face in her neck, very near her sprinting pulse. When he'd recovered enough, she felt his breathy laugh.

"What did I do… to deserve that?"

_Gods, whatever you_ just _did qualifies for more._

"Don't tell me you forgot," she chided, lifting his head to read his reaction. "Happy birthday."

Amusement danced in his eyes, and Hope broke into a mischievous grin. "Thank you, but I don't remember asking for a kiss this year."

"Oh. Well, what did you ask for?" Lightning queried, at a loss as her foggy brain failed to produce the answer. Her eyes briefly flitted to the nearby suitcase. She released him to point at it. "I brought wine, too…"

Hope waved a dismissive hand and snatched hers back. "No, Light, I was teasing! That kiss was perfect – more than I could've ever asked for. Just having you _here_ is a miracle. We'll share the wine, if that's all right. My glasses have been collecting dust for weeks."

"And then what?" The instant the words left her mouth, Lightning wanted to snatch them out of the air. Of all the times to start voicing worrisome thoughts beyond her arrival, five minutes post-reunion might have been the worst.

Surprisingly, Hope was unmoved. The small grin on his face had become a permanent fixture. He lifted her chin and pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Then, we'll have dinner. And tea."

Lightning snorted and rolled her eyes, gripping the front of his shirt to give him a slight shake. "Smartass," she muttered. "I meant after today, at least."

"Oh, see the sights, maybe head south into wine country for restocking," Hope continued happily. "We can sleep on it. I haven't had a good night's sleep in ages. Have you?"

With a bone-weary sigh, Lightning shook her head.

"That's what I thought." He let go of her waist in favor of the doorknob, indicating for her to stand aside while he opened the door. Straying only to grab her suitcase from the threshold, he caught her hand and led her in.

Lightning's eyes immediately tracked to the fire burning in a squat woodstove. She found familiar-looking cabinets, a table with two chairs, a teakettle, and floor cushions all in their places around the cozy room. Additional doors led to a bedroom and bathroom, respectively.

Hope was still watching her, anxiously tracing his thumb over the hand he held. "So, do you like it? I know I haven't asked how long you planned to stay…"

"As long as you want."

Lightning didn't miss a beat. She squeezed his hand, letting her uncertainties melt away in the warmth of the smile that lit his face. Hope had never looked more complete. She might as well have returned his soul.

He pulled her close and spoke the most perfect words in existence.

"Welcome home, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please let me know what you thought of this little story.

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 A/N: Again, porting all my stuff over from FFnet. This particular fic is my favorite.
> 
> Original A/N: It's been a while since I've posted anything, and this project is definitely the primary culprit! I opted to write basically the whole story before posting a single chapter. I've written this fic entirely for, and dedicated to, my awesome beta-roomie. She had an initial idea and a request which my twisted imagination fanned into a blazing bonfire of a story, haha. You will notice that my intent was to create an AU post-LR world in which certain inconveniences from the in-game ending were not *magicked* away. The LR epilogue irked me.
> 
> All that said, I would LOVE to see what everyone thinks and definitely look forward to reviews!
> 
> Oh, and one more thing - shout-out to Elyse Estheim, whose in-canon post-LR fic has been a blast to read and compare! This post is effectively for you ^_^


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